


Kinship and Peril

by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat



Series: Hermione Granger and the Child Protection Movement [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Bonding, new relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 84,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWinterlight/pseuds/LadyWinterlight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyKat/pseuds/NerdyKat
Summary: Fourth in the Child Protection Movement series, this story will pick up where "Hearsay & Validation" left off and tell the story of how events continue to change through the events of "Goblet of Fire."Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. We're just borrowing her universe for a while and do not make any profit from it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your patience in waiting for this story to be ready. We hope you enjoy it!
> 
> In case you hadn't heard, "Secrets and Truths" has been nominated for a Marauder Medal in the "Best Honorary Marauder" category! If you would like to vote for us, you can do so until October 22nd! Here's the link! https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdGm5P_Ehq5Sjxdut6wJd71jZbh1EMQLREyDFhXlqhVfJ3VuA/viewform

Beginning Fourth Year

* * *

****Chapter 1** **

The trip back to Kings Cross passed uneventfully. When they arrived, Harry and Hermione helped each other with their trunks until they were met by George and Sirius; Sirius cast feather-light and shrinking charms on both trunks, and grinned at their thanks. Hugs were exchanged all around, then the four left the station for the drive back to the Grangers’ home. 

For once, there wasn’t any nervous tension or awkwardness on the trip home. Harry and Hermione dug into the books they were reading, as usual, but not from any need to avoid a discussion. Nothing terrible had happened since they were home on Easter hols, and it was actually kind of a relief to learn there wouldn’t need to be a difficult discussion of the year’s chaotic events when they got home, but that was mostly because they were there for it.

Harry knew that the Quidditch World Cup was coming up. Fred and George had spent the train ride talking about it. Apparently Arthur could usually get tickets and they had hinted they wanted Harry and Hermione to come. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to. He loved Quidditch, for sure, but this was the first summer that Sirius was free and he wanted to spend it with Sirius, Remus, and his parents.

Hermione had put the twins off, saying they would have to ask their parents before they could agree to such a trip. She also knew there had been some thoughts about visiting one or two of the Potter properties, and she didn’t know when or if that might happen. She didn’t want Mr. Weasley to buy tickets for them and then find out they were out of the country.

Given how unpredictable their summer plans could possibly be, both Harry and Hermione set to organizing their summer homework the moment they got home and their trunks unshrunk.

“This is just sad, Moony,” Sirius teased them. “The son of James Potter doing homework the day after the end of term…”

Harry was already working on his Arithmancy essay, since it was going to take the most research to complete, and he rolled his eyes. “If I get it done quickly, I have the rest of the summer to have fun and not worry about it,” he informed them with a huff.

Sirius snickered, but Remus only smiled. “As long as there’s fun prioritized in there somewhere,” Remus answered.

“Of course there is,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “But who wants to haul homework along when we go on vacation?”

“Says the girl whose favorite tourist stop is a book shop…” Sirius continued to tease.

“Nothing wrong with that, Pads,” Remus put in, standing up for his niece. “Just because you avoided the library like the plague…”

It was Sirius’ turn to huff. “Moony, you’ve seen my family library. I’m pretty sure it _is_ a plague.”

“Speaking of vacations, I picked you up some audio cassette primers for Latin,” Jean interrupted the bickering as she breezed into the kitchen. “You’ve all said that many spells are in Latin, and since it’s the basis for French, Spanish and Italian, I thought it would be a good set of lessons.” She spoke while checking the oven. Something smelled delicious. “Twenty minutes until dinner.”

Harry grinned; he’d been picking up something of other languages from Hermione and during their travels, but it would be nice to be able to really catch up on something. “Thanks, Mum.”

“You’re welcome. We ordered them in from a shop we know in France,” Jean explained with a smile. “It’s not really a taught language anymore, more’s the pity.”

“Oxford still teaches Latin, Mum,” Hermione spoke up, finally taking her attention away from her Ancient Runes homework. “And the University of Edinburgh. I looked it up because I was curious. The University of Leicester does, too, though their catalogue says it’s a different sort of language course because it’s all taught by academics. There aren’t any native speakers anymore.”

“I think Beauxbatons teaches a Latin course to their first and second years,” Remus mused thoughtfully.

“Beauxbatons?” George asked curiously as he joined the rest of the family in the kitchen.

“The Wizarding school in France,” Sirius answered. “There are three major European schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.”

“Is there any difference in education?” Harry asked curiously.

“Slight differences,” Remus recalled. “Certain electives can be offered at one school but not the others, but the International Confederacy of Wizards makes sure that most major education systems remain consistent. That way wizards who hire immigrants know they’re hiring someone with similar education.”

“Do any wizards go on to post-secondary education?” Hermione asked. “Not just masteries but Oxford or Cambridge?”

“A few have,” Remus noted. “I considered it, but I wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Part of our cooperation with the muggle government includes a protocol that allows muggle-born students to apply to a university if they have the grades and can pass A-levels.”

“I still never understood why you’d want to,” Sirius grumbled.

“Perhaps because magic can’t, and clearly doesn’t, solve everything,” Jean suggested lightly, reminding Sirius that he was the only one present who hadn’t grown up at least partially in the muggle world.

“There’s definitely a lot more to the world than wizards study,” George agreed. “And if a person is interested, wizard or not, why shouldn’t they go to University?”

“I’m surrounded by swots!” Sirius exclaimed. “Merlin, do I miss James sometimes.”

“Well, you know what they say, Uncle Sirius,” Hermione said with a cheeky grin. “If you can’t beat them, join them.” She held a book out in Sirius’ direction. Sirius sighed and grabbed the book, noting that it, at least, was a book on defensive magic.

Harry knew the last six months had been hard on Sirius. Proving his innocence to the DMLE had been one thing, but getting the wizarding world to accept the truth was another thing entirely. People fled his general vicinity when he was out in public, some thought that regardless of his innocence he was still a mad and dark wizard, and people _watched_ him. In general, Sirius was learning to avoid crowded situations. It left him unable to resume his old job as an auror. Amelia had offered, clearly out of guilt about the fact that everyone had turned on Sirius, but he declined.

Not only was he having issues in his personal life, but his nephew had nearly been assassinated mere months before to try and prevent Sirius from testifying. The event had terrified Sirius of losing Harry. Harry didn’t really remember the worst of it, but the way his family now watched him, it must have been bad.

“Knut for your thoughts?” Harry asked.

Sirius jumped, realizing Harry had caught him staring, then smiled slowly at his godson. “Just thinking about what I should do next.”

“You mentioned looking over your family properties,” Hermione recalled. “How did that go?”

Sirius grimaced, then refocused. “The family manor in London is a disaster; I probably need to get a team of curse-breakers to give the place a thorough review before it can be made habitable again. Most of the other properties are in better shape, but they’re rather more public locations. If they weren’t well kept, they’d draw attention. Merlin, I never thought I’d go back there.”

“Why?” Harry asked, staring at Sirius.

Sirius paused. “Home was always… hard. My parents had my life planned out from the moment I was born, even though I didn’t fit the mold I was expected to fit into. When I went to Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor, I was hoping that they’d wake up and see who I really was but instead…” Sirius bowed his head. “It’s one of my worst memories. It was like I was a puppet. I was expected to fall-in. My younger brother could. He was always the golden child. So when I ran away at sixteen, I promised myself I’d never go back. My father and mother both died while I was in Azkaban, so it’s my property now, but actually going there…”

Harry looked at Sirius and was shocked to see how pained he looked. “So going back there sounds like what would happen if I were forced back to Privet Drive,” Harry realized. Sirius nodded stiffly.

“You could sell it, or donate it to someone,” Hermione suggested. “Or hire someone to act on your behalf while all the curses are removed, then you could repaint it and get new furniture.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What do you think, Remus, interested in the gig?” he finally asked.

“Wh-what?” Remus spluttered. “Me? Why-?”

“You need work, and you’ve been there before. Plus you know more about dark curses than nearly anyone I know,” Sirius said.

“You really trust me with this?” Remus asked in disbelief.

Sirius just stared back at his best friend with a look that closely resembled Hermione’s expression when Harry was being particularly thick about something. “I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more.” Remus sputtered, but no words actually formed.

“Have you thought about what to do with your family inheritance?” Jean asked Sirius; he’d been wrestling with the difficulties his family had left him since Easter and had discussed the options several times with the Grangers.

Sirius sighed and shrugged. “I have no direct heirs, nor am I likely to anytime soon. You five are all the family I choose to acknowledge. Well, and maybe the Tonkses, but…”

“Tonkses?” Harry asked curiously.

“Andromeda Tonks was born a Black,” Sirius explained. “My cousin, and the sister of Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.” Harry sucked in a breath, recognizing both names. “She was disowned for marrying a muggleborn named Ted. They have a daughter named Nymphadora who’s five years older than you. Andy actually wrote me a letter a week ago. She wants to meet up, to talk.”

“You should,” Jean encouraged. “You need to hold on to family. Which reminds me, We have a Granger family reunion coming up in a couple of weeks.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. They’d mentioned the reunion last summer, to prepare Harry, but he couldn’t help but feel a little conflicted about the event. There were still moments that he felt like a bit of an outsider within the family. As if she were reading his mind, Jean stroked his hair softly.

“They’re going to love you, Harry,” she reassured him. “Blood doesn’t matter. You’re family.”

Harry smiled, more at the fact that he noticed that he’d grown a couple inches more than anything. It reminded him of how much his parents inexplicably loved him. At the very least, Harry belonged with them, and they were intent on getting Harry to believe that he was worth so much more than the Dursleys had taught him he was.

“And Sirius is avoiding the question,” George put in slyly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so,” he added in a more normal tone.

Sirius shrugged. “I haven’t really figured it all out yet. Beyond what we just discussed.”

“That’s okay,” Jean agreed. “Besides, what was it you said over Christmas? ‘The extra wing of the house wasn’t put in to be temporary’?”

“That’s right,” Remus chimed in, calmer once he was no longer on the spot about helping Sirius with his properties. “We’re here to stay.”

The first weeks of the summer passed in a blur of homework and lessons in the park. When the Grangers started packing for the family reunion, Jean refused to listen to protests and insisted Remus and Sirius pack as well. “You’re family. They’re family. So you’re coming.”

As it turned out, everyone had an excellent time. George’s parents’ home was a small manor house in the south of France, and the little town nearby had plenty of hotel space for those who chose not to stay in the manor itself. Jean and George had elected to go the hotel route, to give Harry a space where relatives couldn’t invade. Jean’s siblings and their families also attended, so Hermione got to introduce her brother to their cousins on their mother’s side as well as their father’s extended family. Though George had no siblings, he had quite a lot of cousins, many of whom also had children.

The days were filled with football and cricket and splashing in the pool. Harry’s new family members had apparently been well prepared by Jean and George and Harry noticed that they were extra careful to treat him as one of the kids.

Even Sirius and Remus didn’t feel out of place for too long. The family was, in general, boisterous and welcoming. If anyone was surprised that Jean and George’s adopted son came with two “uncles,” no one commented on it. Even if it was a little odd to see everyone busy and functioning without magic, it was a sight they’d grown accustomed to at the Grangers’.

Before returning home, the family made a visit to the Isle of Skye. Sirius and Remus were able to take them to the edge of the main Potter estate, but none of the adults could approach the gates. They all knew the property was warded, but it was definitely disconcerting to simply reach a point at which they couldn’t continue to walk forward.

“So what now?” Harry asked. He and Hermione were unhindered by the wards, as the Goblins had said they would be.

“You press your hand against the gate and state your name and who in the group has permission to enter,” Sirius explained.

Harry tentatively stepped forward and pressed his wand hand against the gate. “My name is Harry Potter. I give permission for George Granger, Jean Granger, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black to enter.”

With a loud, grating creak, the gate opened. “Does this remind anyone of a horror movie?” Jean joked.

They all entered and gasped at the view as the door closed behind them. The front yard was more like the park near their house. There was a pond off to the side with a couple trees near it.  Harry spotted the edge of a Quidditch Pitch beyond that. The main path led through a short maze of bushes, then up a hilly front lawn, and eventually to the house. The manor was huge.

“Some of the best times of my life were here,” Sirius commented, breaking the silence. “It was really the first home I’ve ever had.”

As they approached the grand front stair that led to the entry, a muffled pop sounded and a pair of House Elves appeared in front of them with wide eyes. “A Master Potter has returned!” the first one exclaimed. Unlike the tea-towels or pillowcases they’d seen depicted in books on House Elves, these two wore neatly tailored clothing with the Potter crest on the front.

“And a Mistress Potter, too!” the second added in an excited tone.

Sirius broke into a grin. “Pipsy! Spiffy!” he greeted them.

“Master Sirius, welcome back,” the first elf beamed. “We is waiting so very long for Potters to come home.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Harry said softly. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“No sorrys,” Spiffy said sternly. “You’s here now, and with more family. All elves is being happier with your arrival. Come in, come in.”

Spiffy led them from the foyer to a sitting room. Given the large, ornate house, the sitting room was furnished in a way Harry hadn’t expected. Instead of the stiff furniture Harry thought he’d see, the sitting room had a lot of big, overstuffed couches and chairs around a large fireplace. There was a wireless in one corner. A broomstick was propped on an end table, like it’s owner was coming back for it in a moment.

Sirius and Remus froze. “They… they were in a rush to get under the Fidelius. That broomstick… it was your father’s.” Sirius explained. Harry went over and touched the broom.

“He took me for rides on this,” Harry recalled, barely remembering a rush of wind and a deep, booming laugh. “Before I could even sit up…”

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“We lived here, before…” Harry murmured. Before Voldemort heard the prophecy and sent them into hiding, before Peter betrayed them all and ruined the lives of an entire family, this had been home. Harry suddenly got the image of getting his Hogwarts letter here, of Lily teaching him his letters and numbers, of siblings… he felt guilty, wanting to know what would have happened. He loved Hermione. He loved his parents. But he still kinda wished he knew what would have been. A life without knowing how cruel one human being could be to another before the age of five.

Sirius nodded.

“Attacked, we was. Before Master James took you’s and Mistress Lily into hiding,” Spiffy mused sadly. “We all fought nasty, wicked wizards. Would’ve died to protect home and family. But Master James, he says, ‘keep our legacy safe for my son, Spiffy.’ And so Spiffy did, with other house elves to help. But Master James died, away from home.”

“Do you want to stay?” Harry asked slowly. “Or is this too full of sad memories to be comfortable?”

Spiffy shook her head. “We stay. We all stay. We bonds to House of Potter because Potters good to all peoples, including to House Elves,” she stated firmly. “Bad wizards is being bad to everybody, including Elves who only wants to help them. Good wizards is good to everybody, and we return love where it’s given.”

Hermione stepped up to Harry’s side, when he seemed at a loss for how to respond. “Then I think we can come to love you, too, in time, and we hope we can live up to your expectations of Potters.”

“You will,” Spiffy said confidently. “Can Spiffy have Mistress’s name?”

“I’m Hermione Granger, bonded sister to Harry Potter,” Hermione introduced herself. “These are our parents, Jean and George Granger. It seems like you know Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus already.”

Spiffy nodded. “Master and Madam Grangers is welcome to Potter Manor,” she said with a brief bow. “House is being clean, but guests not expected. Spiffy will have rooms prepared and dinner ordered for Potter Family.” She popped out of the room before anyone could argue with her.

“Well,” Jean said after a moment. “That was different.”

Sirius chuckled. “That’s normal behavior for the Potter House Elves.”

“Any sentient being can be cowed into submission,” Remus said slowly. “But Elves are quite cheerful and helpful when they feel appreciated.”

“Did we want to continue looking around?” George asked. “I know this place is likely to be full of memories for the three of you, but if we want to make use of the home at some point…?”

“We should stay,” Harry murmured. “It’s just… hard, I think.”

“But think of how happy the Elves are to have you home,” Hermione offered. “Maybe their joy can help offset some of the sorrow?”

Harry just shrugged, and Hermione didn’t push. She noticed that he drifted closer to Sirius and Remus as they began to move through the house, though, and told herself firmly not to let it bother her. They had memories in this house, and she didn’t. Just one more thing she couldn’t really understand, so she wouldn’t stop them from taking comfort in each other if that was what they needed.

Spiffy reappeared as they headed further into the house. “Usual rooms prepared for Master Sirius and Master Remus. Rooms in family wing ready for Master and Mistresses Granger. But Spiffy is unsure if Master Harry would like the Master Potter’s suite or another room?” She looked uncertain, blinking up at Harry.

“My parents’ room?” Harry asked awkwardly.

Spiffy shook her head. “No, no. Was Master and Mistress Potters’ rooms; Master James’ parents. Master James didn’t want to change once they were settled…”

When Harry looked both relieved and uncertain, Jean stepped in. “Why don’t we leave the master suite until you’re of-age, Harry?” she suggested gently. “You and Hermione should have rooms more suited to your age for now, I think.”

Harry looked at Jean, then glanced at Sirius, who shrugged. Then Harry nodded. “I think that sounds okay,” he agreed, turning his attention to Spiffy. “Can you find rooms next to each other for my sister and me, please?”

“Of course!” Spiffy said, perking up now that she knew what Harry wished. “I gets them ready now!”

With a pop, she disappeared. Harry looked around with interest. The nearest room was a mid-sized ballroom that made Sirius smile. “We had some pretty wicked parties here,” Sirius said. “I’d spend a lot of nights over here after I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Padfoot’s parents begrudgingly admitted that if he had to be sorted into Gryffindor, at least he was socializing with the right people,” Remus explained.

“They weren’t blood traitors?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Well,” Remus hedged. “They certainly stood against Voldemort, but the Potter name is a bit too influential for anyone to call them that.”

“Except for my mother,” Sirius added with a scowl. “Though even _she_ only said it behind closed doors. Your grandmother was originally a Black, Harry. Of course, my mother called people blood traitor for doing almost anything. I was a blood traitor for being sorted into Gryffindor and disrespecting my father, for example.”

“Sirius’ mother was a piece of work,” Remus said, frowning.

“I like to think Mrs. Potter was more of my mother…” Sirius noted.

“What was she like? Both of them, I mean,” Harry asked.

“Well Mrs. Potter was always feeding us. She made the best things. Stews over Christmas, homemade fish and chips… she made her own Pumpkin Juice… Both Mr. and Mrs. Potter knew that I never got… love… at home. Mr. Potter would take me and James to Quidditch games and such.”

“That sounds fun. Dad has taken me to Muggle footie games,” Harry said with a small smile. “Mum says she and Hermione used to go, but neither of them is very interested in sports. I like to go watch, though, so now we watch on the telly or once in a while at a live game. Plus there’s a kids’ team that plays in the park over the summer.”

“You could join if you wanted, you know,” Hermione chimed in. “I could take a different class or just read in the park while you practice. If you think you’d have fun.”

“Maybe,” Harry hedged after a moment. He liked spending time with his sister and Quidditch kept them apart a fair bit during school.

The night spent at Potter Manor was comfortable. The House Elves doted on Harry and Hermione in particular, and Hermione eventually asked them directly for an explanation of the bond between House Elves and Wizards. Assured by the mutualistic benefits involved in the Bond, she was able to let go of her ingrained gut response to what outwardly appeared to be slavery.

Around two in the morning, however, they were all awakened from their beds by Harry screaming bloody murder. Hermione was in Harry’s bedroom first, just by virtue of distance, but the adults were right on her heels. Hermione sprang into bed and tried to wake Harry. He’d stopped screaming but was now writhing in bed and crying.

“He’s not waking up!” Hermione cried in shock.

“Here, Hermione,” Remus said, brandishing his wand. She backed away, letting Remus and her mum onto the bed instead. “Ennervate.” The spell had no effect, making Remus frown. Hermione leaned into Sirius, trying to make herself smaller and out of the way.

Jean felt Harry’s forehead, firmly holding his head. “He’s burning up...” she said slowly. She stroked Harry’s hair, making shushing noises at Harry. When Jean leaned over and kissed his forehead, Harry froze, then bolted upright so fast he nearly banged heads against Jean.

“Harry?” George asked, kneeling by Harry’s bed and feeling his pulse. “God, his pulse is racing, Jean. Harry, it’s Dad.”

Slowly, at a glacial pace, Harry blinked, then turned towards George. “Dad?” he asked in a whisper.

“I’m here, kiddo,” George said. Harry looked completely destroyed.

“Dad, I think he’s really dead.”

“It was just a dream, kiddo,” George reassured him, not having a clue what Harry was talking about.

“He was there…” Harry said softly. “There was a muggle and he was… I think he killed him.”

George leaned Harry’s torso against his chest, the teen now too large to hold in his lap without it being awkward. “Shhh, I know.”

“He was with Pettigrew,” Harry murmured, starting to sag.

“It’s okay, Harry,” George reassured him.

Harry then stiffened and sat up again, pushing away from George. He got out of bed and went over to the window, clearly trying to ground himself.

Everyone stared at him, all trying to figure out how best to comfort him. “What did you dream about?” Sirius asked curiously.

Harry answered very quietly. “There was an old man…” Harry started slowly. “He must have been a caretaker of a manor somewhere, but the manor had been abandoned. He saw a light on in the house, so the old man went to investigate… Voldemort was there with Pettigrew, and a giant snake… And someone I didn’t recognize. They were talking about the World Cup… and killing someone named… Be… Bertha Jorkins? There was something about something happening at Hogwarts. They… they were plotting to kill me.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance; they recognized the name. Bertha Jorkins was a Ministry employee, though neither was sure exactly what she did. She’d been a couple years younger than them and had been rather besotted with Sirius, though the feeling was never mutual. They might not know if Harry’s dream was just a dream, but if they could confirm her status, they might have a better idea one way or the other.

“We’re not going to let them get to you,” George said firmly, missing the byplay between the two wizards as he focused on his son.

“I’m not sure you can stop them,” Harry mumbled, still shaken but calmer now.

“Do you remember the name of the third man?” Remus asked. “Did anyone address him?”

“Uh,” Harry blinked, trying to grasp it. “Crutch?”

“Crouch?” Sirius asked, eyes widening. “Barty Crouch?”

Harry looked at Sirius sharply. “That’s it,” he nodded. “Barty Crouch, Jr.” Sirius exchanged a long look with Remus. “Why? Who is he?”

“Barty Crouch, Sr. was the man who sent Padfoot to Azkaban without a trial,” Remus revealed softly. “His son… his son was one of the Death Eaters who tortured Neville’s parents.”

“But he died,” Sirius countered. “He died about a year after he was brought in. I remember it, because Crouch and his wife used to come to visit him every month, then they stopped coming and I remember reading in the paper that his wife died not long after that.”

“If Voldemort isn’t actually dead,” Hermione pointed out, “could this Crouch Junior also still be alive somehow?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh… is this… Melody’s family?”

Harry blinked, distracted from the dream and his own worries when she brought up their friend. Melody had graduated the year before and was of age, but just because she no longer lived with her father it didn’t necessarily follow that she would be safe.

There was a quiet pop. “We is hearing noises,” Spiffy said, precariously holding a tray with six mugs on it. Spiffy put the tray on an ottoman at the foot of Harry’s bed. “Bad dreams is going away best with a bit of cocoa. Or that is what Mistress Potter would be sayin’ when Master Harry was a babe.”

This caused Sirius to smile slightly. “Lily always did love her cocoa,” he remembered fondly.

Spiffy popped away again, and everyone grabbed a cuppa. Harry blew on his steaming mug a couple of times before speaking. “Do you think it was a dream?” he asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” Sirius hedged. “But you are naming real people, at least one of whom I doubt you’ve heard of before.”

“Which means we have a starting point to look into it,” Remus pointed out. “For now, though, I would try to put it from your mind. Enjoy the rest of your summer, and let us worry about dark lords and threats.”

When they returned home, they only had a few days to get unpacked and everything re-situated before Luna’s planned visit. Mr. Lovegood had arranged in advance for them to pick Luna up while he made a two-week business trip to some remote part of Africa. Luna was a little sad she couldn’t go with him yet, but Mr. Lovegood had promised to take Luna next year. She took it in stride and at least could look forward to two weeks with the Grangers.

Jean and George quietly requested that Harry stay inside for the time being, and Harry agreed. Everyone was a bit shaken up at Voldemort plotting Harry’s death within Harry’s dream, real or not.

While Luna was over, Sirius and Remus spent time at Potter Manor, unpacking a lot of stuff that had been in storage. Harry and  Hermione helped Luna finish her homework in record time, reviewed their own briefly, and spent the remainder of their weeks either reading, at the park, or exploring London when an adult could accompany them.

A few days after Luna returned home, Sirius surprised the kids with a late birthday gift for Harry. “I wasn’t sure if I could get them,” he admitted as he handed Harry an envelope. “And I didn’t want to disappoint you, if I couldn’t.”

Harry tentatively opened the envelope; inside were four tickets to the Quidditch World Cup being held the very next week. “We get to go to the World Cup?” Harry asked, eyes huge.

“They’re not great seats, this close to the game,” Sirius began, but was interrupted by Harry throwing himself into his godfather’s arms.

“This is amazing!” Harry exclaimed. “There are only four?” he asked after looking in the envelope again.

“Muggles can’t get to the game,” Sirius admitted. “But Jean and George said it was okay. You and I can go with Remus and Hermione.”

Harry blinked, then turned to his sister. “Do you want to go?” he asked hesitantly. “I know you’re not really a fan…”

Hermione smiled. “I’m happy to go if you want me to, Harry. You can be excited for both of us, but I do think it will be interesting to see a professional game.”

“We’re happy to let you go,” George said. “However, Jean and I would prefer if you didn’t stay overnight. Remus and Sirius have described all the pre-partying and post-partying people do and frankly Harry, given your fame, we’d prefer it if you weren’t there.”

“We just want to make sure you don’t get hurt or anything,” Jean confirmed. “The way Sirius describes it, some of these parties can get rather wild.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry assured them. “I’m happy to get to go at all!”

Arriving at the World Cup, neither Harry nor Hermione could hold back their amazement at the size of the stadium. As they were directed to their seats, Sirius and Harry definitely drew stares, or rather Sirius drew stares and Harry drew curious glances when they managed to catch a glimpse of him behind Remus and Sirius.

They were seated on the Bulgarian side, close to where the Quidditch players flew out of the locker rooms. Sirius knew he’d be a bit more comfortable in an area where both he and Harry were less likely to be recognized, and to combat the distance between them and the players, purchased omnioculars for all four of them, so watching the game wasn’t too much of a challenge.

Harry spent most of the game studying every aspect of Lynch and Krum’s approaches to the game, taking mental notes for upcoming house games at school. Hermione, Remus, and Sirius, meanwhile enjoyed the overall aspect of the game. At various points, house elves came by with wizarding delicacies from Ireland and Bulgaria.

Others around them who were attending mostly for their quidditch-mad friends or families also entertained each other with various things they’d bought from street vendors or brought from home. Hermione spent some of the game conversing with them as best she could.

At one point, Hermione caught sight of a crowd of red-heads in the Top Box, and she recalled the twins telling them the Weasley family would be attending this year too. She took out her coin and sent a message to the twins, saying she hoped they were having fun.

It was late when they got home, and went directly to bed. Despite remembering that Harry’s dream had mentioned the Cup, the adults had gone to bed thinking it was just a dream, and it was rather silly to think that it could somehow be prophetic. The morning after the game, however, the Daily Prophet’s headline shocked them all, and the beginnings of dread started in the pit of their stomachs. _‘SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP .'_ 1

“That’s Voldemort’s… mark,” Remus explained softly after Hermione asked what the image of the snake coming out of the skull was. “Any time there was an attack… any time someone was going to find a loved one dead. That skull was floating above the person’s house.” Sirius had gone pale-green and silent.

“The Prophet seems to think this was the work of Pettigrew,” Harry said, reading the article in full. “Except I could guarantee some of the parents of our friends were there too… and given the last few years, signs point to Voldemort being a real threat, regardless of what the Wizarding world thinks.”

“You said he was sort-of alive first year, didn’t you?” Hermione recalled. “Attached to Quirrell somehow, and trying to get at the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Between that and the shade in the diary second year, I’d definitely say there’s more people involved than just Pettigrew. Somehow, Voldemort isn’t dead.”

“You’ve said there are ghosts at Hogwarts,” George ventured a guess. “Is it possible for one of them to be resurrected? Could that be what Voldemort is trying to do?”

Remus shrugged. “I don’t know of any way, magic or not, to bring a person back from the dead. Even if they still exist as a ghost.”

“There are ways to animate a corpse. Infieri and the like,” Sirius added with a shake of his head. “But that doesn’t make the corpse a person again.”

“What about vampires?” Jean asked. “I mean, if the legends have some things right about werewolves, then surely there’s some grain of truth in other similar stories.”

“Vampires are dark creatures,” Remus acknowledged. “They do exist, though Anne Rice only has a few of the details correct.”

“Is Anne Rice a witch?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Who’s Anne Rice?” Sirius asked curiously.

“An American author of gothic fantasy fiction,” Remus answered promptly.

“Muggles have some pretty interesting versions of people in the magical world,” Sirius said with a smirk. “Like the story about Hobbits? What was that?”

“It’s just a story,” Harry laughed. “And despite the Statute of Secrecy, things get out. Rumor, myth, and legend catch the imagination of muggle writers, so it’s become fantasy. Sometimes I wonder if some of these stories weren’t written by wizards…”

“That’d be interesting,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “There are plenty of things that we have access to that muggles would love as a fantasy. I wonder if there’s any regulation regarding the statute and publishing in the muggle world.”

“I don’t think you’d be breaking the statute if it was published as fiction,” Remus said slowly. “I don’t think it has ever come up; muggle-borns are so often encouraged to leave the muggle world behind them as they grow into adults in the wizarding world.”

“There are writers known in both worlds,” Sirius spoke up. “But most of them published before the statute was enforced.”

George frowned. “Why would they be encouraged to leave their families and their lives in the muggle world behind?”

Remus sighed. “Because even among those who aren’t focused on blood status and tradition, having magic sets wizards apart. And to be entirely honest, the people who govern wizarding society prefer it that way. It makes them the ultimate authority.”

“It also helps feed into the feeling of superiority held so dear by the elitists,” Sirius added. “Clearly the wizarding world must be better if so many choose it over their muggle families.”

“That’s horrible,” Jean grumbled. “Wizarding society is just one _aspect_ of the world. They don’t have a world all of their own.”

“It’s mostly leftover fear of a time when witches and wizards were persecuted,” Remus said. “Most people aren’t as accepting as you two. Look at Harry’s aunt and uncle.”

“Sometimes muggle-borns get kicked out by their parents,” Sirius offered. “Especially if they’re from religious homes. It’s not… they may not burn us at the stake any more but there are _reasons_ why witches and wizards are afraid of the muggle world. It might be elitist and wrong, but it’s not unjustified to want everyone you love to be safe.”

Jean sighed and her shoulders slumped. “No, I can’t argue with that. There are many close-minded people in the world. Perhaps that’s one thing wizards and muggles do have in common.”

“Then we just have to teach them better,” Harry said with an expression of determination. “I mean, I don’t think we can get everybody or even a lot of people at once. But just remember how well our AA group took to their day in Muggle London.”

“We can change things,” Hermione agreed. “It just takes time.”

“There’s always going to be people who won’t want the change,” George pointed out. “It takes generations of people for that kind of thing to disappear. Eventually, if you put in the work, you can change things one person at a time. Though I’m not entirely sure how to change things in the muggle world without them all freaking out about the truth.”

“Exposure,” Jean said with finality. “That’s the only way to get anyone used to anything.”

“Which is the one thing the Statute of Secrecy explicitly forbids,” Remus finished glumly. “Still, perhaps we can find a way in time.”

“We can certainly try!” Harry and Hermione said together. They grinned at their synchronicity; it was one of the things they did both feel strongly about. Strong enough to work for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Goblet of Fire, Chapter 8


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione begin their fourth year at Hogwarts. And as per usual, danger is lurking around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your reviews last chapter! Lady Winterlight and I really enjoy reading and responding to them.
> 
> Please remember to vote for 'Secrets and Truths' before October 22nd. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdGm5P_Ehq5Sjxdut6wJd71jZbh1EMQLREyDFhXlqhVfJ3VuA/viewform

The first of September arrived quickly after the excitement of the World Cup and the terror following. Fortunately, living in the Muggle part of the world meant they weren’t exposed to any of the fear that wracked the wizarding community. Their parents were a bit wary, but it wasn’t news to their family that Death Eaters still existed. They avoided the crowds to do their school shopping, as usual, though they puzzled over the requirement to bring formal dress or dress robes. Madam Malkin set them straight, though, and they were fully prepared for another year at Hogwarts. Sirius had convinced the family to Floo to King’s Cross. It was faster, more secure, and Sirius and Remus could take their parents home afterwards.

Harry also made Sirius promise that they’d prepare Potter Manor to receive people in case his friends couldn’t go home. Sirius agreed easily. “You know, when you told me last year about your friends, I didn’t get it. And then I met them and… I understand how complicated you can feel about your family. I had a brother…Regulus. He joined the Death Eaters… I guess because Mother and Father thought it was his obligation to restore the family name,” Sirius explained. “Merlin, I hated him for most of my childhood. He was always getting me into trouble, or rubbing my failures in my face or getting in over his head and ignoring me when I got him out of it. I hated him… but I loved him too.” Sirius’ face looked pained.

“What… what happened?” Harry asked softly.

“He was killed,” Sirius said thickly. “Got in over his head, just like always. He died about a month before Lily and James did.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, reaching out and hugging him. Hesitantly, Sirius returned the hug.

The train whistle blew in warning, causing Harry to suddenly remember where he was. “Make sure to write!” Sirius said, helping Harry onto the train. Harry noted both of them had filled out a bit over the summer and he had grown some as well. It was easier getting on the train, at least, and Sirius didn’t look like death warmed over any more.

“I will,” Harry called as the train pulled away, hanging out of the door. He wasn’t the only one doing so. Lots of students were hanging out, shouting final messages to their parents. Hermione was right next to him, waving to their parents.

Something seemed… different… this year. Maybe it was the fact that Pettigrew had escaped, or the rumors of the disappearances, but Harry’s instincts seemed to sense something was happening. Harry sat in a compartment with Luna, Neville, and Hermione; Hermione immediately started helping Neville review courses from the year before at his request, so he’d be prepared when classes resumed. Harry and Luna, meanwhile, played Exploding Snap and talked about several creatures that couldn’t be seen by most wizards.

About an hour into the train ride, Draco came by for his annual public “show down” with Harry. They were becoming quite good at portraying animosity in public, and everyone in the AA would laugh about it later. If not for the faked snide tones, the jibes they traded would be more like banter than insults. Eventually Draco huffed and led the other Slytherins away. Once the door to their compartment closed, the small group laughed themselves silly.

Not long after Draco left, Dean appeared. “Hey Dean. How was your summer?” Harry greeted Dean with a grin. 

“It was… awkward,” Dean said slowly. He looked a little conflicted “Mr. Black stopped by a few times to help me learn about my Dad… My first Dad. It’s… odd to learn about him from someone else, especially when we all thought he abandoned us when it turns out he was protecting us.”

“I get that,” Harry nodded. “If you ever need to talk… I mean, until I got my Hogwarts letter, my guardians told me that my parents died in a car crash because my Dad had been drunk. They weren’t happy that I learned who they really were.”

Dean winced at the thought, then nodded. “Thanks I… it helps to know that I’m not the only one who knows what it’s like.” 

Ron showed up then, “Dean, come on, it’s your turn to play me in chess,” he called.

“Yeah, sure Ron,” Dean responded with a knowing smile. Ron gave Harry and Hermione a small smile and a little wave. Harry and Hermione waved back.

The quartet stayed together for the carriage ride up to Hogwarts and only split up because Luna had to sit at her own House table. She was immediately welcomed by several of the older students. Though her year-mates still mostly ignored her, she was starting to gain friends with some of the older Ravenclaws, especially since most of the student body was starting to believe that she was a Seer. At the Gryffindor table, Harry’s attention was immediately claimed by his Quidditch team-mates, all of whom were excitedly discussing the World Cup. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and continued to discuss their summer homework with Neville as Harry and the others launched into a play-by-play analysis of the game.

After the first years were sorted, Dumbledore’s start of term announcements after dinner took everyone aback, distracting from talk of the Cup, which Harry didn’t think was possible. The news about a three-weekend series of lectures to help Muggleborns better understand Wizarding society was almost lost in the uproar over the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione wondered if Dumbledore was deliberately trying to downplay the lectures and decided to make sure the news was repeated around the school as necessary. She knew she’d be attending, despite her more recent education, and she’d encourage firsties of all houses to go as well. 

The idea of Quidditch being cancelled for the entire year was in no way compensated for by the Tournament, in Harry’s mind. Hermione was rather more excited about the idea of meeting students from the other two Wizarding schools, though. Harry suspected he wasn’t the only one upset about the loss of Quidditch, with the way murmurs tore through the Great Hall. Especially with the knowledge that only students who were 17 would be allowed to compete. Sure, everyone else would be able to watch, but Harry had always preferred playing Quidditch to watching others play.

Not that he  _ wanted _ to enter the Tournament, especially since he knew almost nothing about it other than the age requirement and the fact that one of their history books mentioned it being discontinued after several champions died. But even if Dumbledore said the rules had been modified for better safety, he doubted very much he’d do well in a competition designed for students with advanced knowledge and skills he hadn’t learned yet.

“What do you think Harry?” Fred asked.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts. “What?” he responded. 

“If there wasn’t an age restriction, would you enter?” Ron asked timidly. “Personally, I think it’d be nice. Think of all that money…”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “All that attention and risk? No thanks. I’m looking forward to a nice, peaceful year where no one bothers me or tries to kill me.”

“But it’s tradition!” George objected jokingly.

“Don’t worry Harry,” Fred added. “We can always threaten to kill you if you start to miss it.”

Angelina and Alicia, sitting across from the twins, rolled their eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t blame you Harry,” Katie said. “The troubles over the stone, the Chamber, the whole affair with Black and Pettigrew. If anyone deserves a vacation from being in the spotlight, it’s you.”

“I’m thinking of putting my name in,” Angelina admitted. “Historically, only boys competed in the Triwizard Tournament. It’s about time a witch won it.”

“Hear hear,” Hermione murmured.

Harry smiled. “I look forward to cheering you on.”

“What about you, Hermione?” Ginny asked. “You’re top of your year; would you enter if you could?”

Hermione shook her head. “Maybe if I were in sixth or seventh year like the rest of the participants will be, I might. But top of our year or not, the older students just have more knowledge and experience. I’d feel outclassed. And I think my parents would object to me participating in a tournament with possible death on the warning label.”

“It’s the third most famous classic blunder in the world,” Harry teased. “Never go against a Mum when death is on the line.”

Hermione, Dean Thomas, and several other muggle-borns fell into a fit of giggles while the others stared. “What?” Lee Jordan asked.

“It’s from a movie,” Dean said, still giggling intermittently. “One of the best ever made, in my opinion, called  _ The Princess Bride _ . People often quote it or in Harry’s case, paraphrase it. It’s got a lot of muggle references in it, and utilizes an acting tool called ‘ad lib’ to make it funny.”

“Dunno if I’d go with best movie ever made, but it’s definitely one of the most quotable,” Hermione managed as the laughter died down.

Fred and George looked at Hermione with identical fierce expressions. “We must see this film,” they said in unison.

Hermione blinked at them guilelessly for a moment, then deadpanned, “As you wish.” The muggle-borns cracked up again, and the twins just looked more determined.

The Weasley twins were rather upset at the age minimum. When Harry learned that their entire life savings had been stolen by Ludo Bagman when they’d bet that Ireland would win but Krum would get the snitch, and they had been saving to fund their own joke shop, Harry offered to invest in their idea, instead. Knowing that as they were both geniuses and the best pranksters Hogwarts had seen since his father and Uncle Padfoot had attended, it was a solid investment. The twins had been overjoyed at this fact, and Harry promised to owl Gringotts first thing in the morning to start drawing up paperwork.

Auror Alastor Moody walked in in the middle of dinner, causing everyone to stare. As Moody took a seat, Harry found himself feeling a pang of homesickness. Moony hadn’t taken the Defense professorship for a second year due to the curse. He’d gotten out relatively unscathed, but didn’t want to tempt fate. Harry wished he knew who or what had caused the curse so he could end it. Everyone at the table shifted to talking about Moody’s past, rather than speculating about the Tournament further. Harry supposed that as a retired Auror, paranoid or not, he was qualified to teach a bunch of kids.

As classes started, Harry discovered that he was dead wrong about his assessment of Moody. Their first lesson, Moody demonstrated the Unforgivable curses. Harry had been sitting between Neville and Hermione. Harry felt sick as he watched the Imperius curse. Most everyone else laughed or grinned, but Harry, Hermione, and Neville exchanged glances, all pale. Taking away someone’s free will… was horrible… immoral… unforgivable. 

Harry was surprised when Neville volunteered the Cruciatus curse. He squeezed Neville’s hand under the desk as Moody demonstrated the curse. They’d be going to the AA room after this, for sure.

“There is one more Unforgivable,” Moody said.

Hermione shakily raised her hand. “Avada Kedavra,” she announced softly. The room was so quiet that everyone heard her.

Moody nodded. “Avada Kedavra. The killing curse. There’s no counter curse, there’s no protection from it. Only one person in the whole world has survived it and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

Everyone looked at Harry. Moody took out the final spider. “Avada Kedavra!” he yelled. There was a rush of wind and a flash of bright green light. Harry’s stomach clenched and he felt dizzy. This is how his parents had died. This is how he was orphaned. 

Without Harry realizing it, class ended. “Harry,” Hermione coaxed him gently. “Harry, let’s go to the library.” He nodded mutely and gathered up his books with automatic motions. Hermione made sure they didn’t forget anything, then led him towards the AA’s safe haven. Neville trailed along behind them, his expression dark and troubled.

McGonagall, somehow unsurprisingly, was in the AA room. “I was informed that Professor Moody was performing the Unforgivables today for the fourth years,” she explained, her tone heavy with disapproval. “I figured that many would come early to the meeting, so I had the house elves bring in lunch.”

Harry’s stomach rolled at the thought of food. McGonagall came over and gently led him to the table. She put a hand on his shoulder. “When your mother was your age, your father had done something to annoy her, so she transfigured all the goblets in the Great Hall during dinner into guinea pigs and pinned it on your father and his friends. Unfortunately, your mother added a password protection spell to turn off the prank and your father and his friends were stuck in the Great Hall with 400 guinea pigs until they figured it out.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the image of his father stuck under a pile of 400 squeaking guinea pigs. 

“Mr. Longbottom, I remember one time when your father decided that students needed something a little… uplifting during the war so he covered the Great Hall in three feet of candy floss during lunch.” Neville choked, and Harry outright laughed, tears slipping down his face. The tightness in his chest that had appeared during defense class dissipated. “I’ve lost too many students due to Voldemort,” McGonagall continued. “And I’ve found the best way to remember them is how they lived.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly. Neville nodded in agreement.

“Now, I apologize, but I must oversee lunch. Professor Dumbledore is staying in his office today,” McGonagall concluded.

“I’ll watch over all of them,” Hermione confirmed.

It was then that Harry noticed Draco, Blaise, and Theo had entered in the room. Theo was extremely pale and Draco looked rather green. McGonagall ushered them into the room, exiting as they cleared the doorway, and then Hermione took over. Blaise helped Hermione get everyone to seats, and their table looked like a smaller version of the ones in the Great Hall, set for a meal with platters in the middle for everyone to share.

“I can’t believe they’d let a teacher do that,” Theo eventually said in a subdued voice. “I can’t imagine doing something like that to a person…”

“And yet, our fathers probably have,” Draco finished, closing his eyes as if to ward off the sight of it. “Our fathers will expect… I don’t want…”

Before Draco could finish, Cedric and Adella rushed into the room. “We came as soon as we heard about Moody,” Cedric said, panting. “I can’t even imagine how you all must feel…”

“But we’re here for you,” Adella finished. Noting that Hermione and Blaise looked to be in the best shape, Cedric and Adella took seats that spread the four of them out evenly amongst the more traumatized of the group. Between them, they managed to convince everyone to eat something. And while they didn’t discuss the Unforgivables directly, Adella and Cedric together explained more about emotion and intent fueled spells. 

“Spells like that… you have to really mean it in order to make them work,” Cedric finished. “If you’re half-hearted about it or don’t really want it to happen, the spell just sort of fizzles.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that our parents must already be sadistic or crazy, because they’ve made them work,” Theo said flatly.

“Not necessarily,” Adella corrected gently. “They must be driven and believe in their purpose and the need for the spell to work. You don’t have to be vindictive to want to kill someone; killing to protect another person is its own motivation. And you don’t need to cast Avada to kill a person.”

“A lot of spells are potentially lethal if used that way,” Hermione said quietly. “A person could die from being set on fire, or a slicing hex aimed properly could do the same thing. Statistically, a person can drown in less than two inches of water given the right circumstances.”

“That’s why the ethics of magic use are so important,” Cedric asserted. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. But if we get caught up in a war, we might not have a choice. If it’s us or them... ”

“I hope none of us ever have to make that choice,” Blaise said quietly. “But people die in war. It’s inevitable. Especially when one side  _ wants _ people to die. Sometimes the only way to end that threat is to kill the people making those threats.”

“My father and his friends came over after the World Cup,” Malfoy said, quieter than Harry’d ever seen him. “They were bragging about the things they’d done that night. Setting tents on fire… terrorizing people… terrorizing the muggles. I don’t want to be like him. I’d rather  _ die _ than be like him.” Crookshanks, who came to AA meetings on his own these days, jumped into Draco’s lap. “He told me that the Da- Voldemort was coming back, and soon. He wants me to…”

“He’ll have to go through us,” Hermione said staunchly.

“We reopened Potter Manor this summer,” Harry revealed. “My Uncles are currently working on converting it into a safe house. So if any of you guys feel like you either can’t go home or can’t stay home, you have a place to flee.”

“That’s really nice of you, Harry,” Adella said timidly.

“Yeah,” Cedric said. “If you’ll have me, I might come and help out. I’ll be of age soon, so I don’t have to go home this summer.”

“You’re planning to enter the tournament, right Cedric?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah,” Cedric admitted hesitantly. “I just feel… I mean, no offense, but Hufflepuff never gets any attention. For the most part we don’t mind accepting people who don’t fit into the other Houses, but the bias that Hufflepuffs aren’t worth that much is so inundated within our world that even the professors don’t notice us much. I just want to prove we can.”

“We’ll all be behind you if you’re chosen, Cedric,” Neville asserted. “There are only a couple of Gryffindors even entering; a lot of those who want to are underage.”

“And you’re welcome to the spotlight,” Harry added with a huge grin. “I certainly would rather someone else had it for once!”

“What, no inclination to enter the tournament yourself?” Blaise teased.

“I’d rather spend another year with Lockhart,” Harry drawled. Everyone winced.

“I think it’s fair to say that Harry really doesn’t want to be the Hogwarts champion,” Theo said, laughing.

Despite the problems of their first Defense lesson, classes went smoothly over the weeks that followed. If Moody was a tough bastard, even on the firsties, at least they were learning something. It was better than what Harry and Hermione had experienced of Defense in their first two years.

The first session of Wizarding Etiquette 101 - as Hermione and some of the other Muggleborns had taken to calling it, to the bewilderment of the rest of the school - was better attended than Hermione had anticipated. She and Harry both went, as much to support the younger students as for themselves. They’d been successful in spreading the word, though, and most of the Muggleborns and a few of the halfbloods around the school were in attendance.

More surprising was seeing a handful of Slytherin students clustered in the back of the room. Harry pretended surprise at seeing Draco and Theo in attendance; less surprising was the presence of Tracey Davis and a couple of other Slytherin halfbloods. Though they had all grown up in the Wizarding world, Harry wondered if they wanted to see what their instructors thought was worth teaching Muggleborns about.

A tall, aristocratic woman stood at the front of the classroom that had been designated as the location of the seminar. Hermione noted a passing resemblance to both Sirius and Draco, and wondered if she was another Black relation. She was soon answered when the woman introduced herself.

“Good morning, students,” she said in clear, precise tones. “I am Andromeda Tonks, and I pleased to be here to meet with you. Before any of you can ask, no Tonks is not a wizarding family name. However, before I married and was subsequently disowned, I was once of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

Madam Tonks spent the first half of the seminar giving an introduction to basic manners in the Wizarding world. She gave examples, and described the differences between the manners Muggle families would have grown up with. For the second half, she opened the session to questions and some lively discussions were had. The Slytherin contingent in the back had remained notably silent through the entire event, though several of them looked quite thoughtful afterwards.

Hermione was startled when Tracey approached her after the seminar was finished. “Excuse me, Granger? May I have a moment?” she asked, her tone blandly polite.

Hermione nodded politely in response and the two girls stepped to one side of the nearly empty room. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I had wondered if you might have any books to hand that might elaborate on some of what Madam Tonks explained of Muggle courtesy?” Tracey responded. Her expression was carefully neutral, but Hermione caught a spark of interest in the other girl’s eyes. 

“Not with me at the moment, but yes, I have one or two. Would it be safe to presume you’d like to borrow them?” Hermione asked carefully. Tracey gave a hesitant nod, her eyes darting around to be sure no one else was near enough to listen in. Hermione followed her glance around and nodded after a moment. “Well, if you might happen to be in the library in, say, an hour… I might leave a few on a table, where a person might take a look at them.”

Tracey’s expression relaxed and she smiled just a little. “I do have an essay I need to get started on. Perhaps a trip to the library is just what I need.” She nodded a polite farewell to Hermione and left the room at a smooth walk.

Hermione picked up her bag and headed to the Library directly. Perhaps it was time to use the duplication spell she’d found to use on Theo’s books and produce copies of her muggle history and culture books. She could donate them to the school, perhaps for use in Muggle Studies classes. That would make sure interested students had access to the material, at least.

The second and third sessions went equally as smoothly. What surprised Hermione was when, after the second session, a parchment appeared beside the muggle books she’d left in the Library. The parchment contained a list of recommended stories, spanning all age levels, that - despite being fiction in nature - gave surprising insight into what wizarding culture assumed ‘everyone knew.’ Though she didn’t know who’d left it, Hermione wrote a brief thank-you note at the end of the list, so whomever it was would know their effort was appreciated.

Weeks passed quietly. Barty Crouch Sr. arriving at Hogwarts just hours before the other schools arriving was rather interesting for Harry. He’d heard so much about the elder Crouch from Melody and he found that Melody’s description exactly matched the grumpy, old man. “Albus,” Crouch greeted the headmaster.

“Barty,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “How has your daughter been?”

There was a tightness in Crouch’s smile. “Fine, fine,” Crouch said. “She’s started her Mastery, so she moved out. Said she needed to be closer to St. Mungo’s.”

Harry smiled at Hermione. Melody had made it out from the toxic environment. He hoped that she was doing well and that maybe she’d come for a visit sometime soon. 

Ludo Bagman was next to arrive. Harry’d heard quite a few things about Ludo Bagman. By his reputation, the man appeared to be no good. Especially since he’d heard from Remus and Sirius that the man had gotten mixed up with Death Eaters ‘accidentally’ during his time as a professional Quidditch player  _ and  _ the twins dealings with him at the Cup. 

“Dumbledore!” the man exclaimed loudly. “Quite exciting, quite exciting… after months and months of planning, the day is finally here.”

“Welcome Ludo,” Dumbledore greeted warmly. “I trust everything is in order?”

“Of course, of course. Especial thanks to my newest hire - junior secretary of magical games and sports. He’s a recent graduate of Hogwarts. Marcus Flint.” Marcus was behind Bagman, carrying stacks of papers and looking happier than Harry had ever seen him. 

“Mr. Flint,” Dumbledore acknowledged.

“Professor,” Marcus murmured. He turned towards the Slytherins and gave them a subtle wave, then waited until the entire school, who was watching the exchange, was distracted by Bagman and Dumbledore talking to send Hermione and Harry a wink.

It wasn’t long before the other two schools were arriving for the Tournament, Beauxbatons by flying horse and carriage, and Durmstrang by ship. Everyone had gathered outside to greet their guests, or at least to watch Dumbledore greet the Headmaster of Durmstrang and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. As they headed back inside, finally, Harry and Hermione quietly discussed introducing themselves to the visiting students individually. It helped that Hermione knew French and Harry was learning. It would be good practice for them both, and likely nice for the Beauxbatons students to not have to be stuck with English with everyone but each other.

Hermione regretted, now, that she’d focused mostly on Romance languages and Latin itself. She knew some German, but she thought she heard phrases of Russian or some of the other Slavic languages among the Durmstrang students. Still, exposure was often the quickest way to learn, and perhaps if they made friends with some of the students, they would be willing to teach.

Harry had been shocked to see Viktor Krum when Durmstrang arrived. He watched as Durmstrang sat with Slytherin. Draco said something to Viktor, then the Pro Quidditch player smiled. Harry couldn’t help but feel envious, even as the Beauxbaton students sat at the Gryffindor table near them. “Wishing he were over here?” a Beauxbatons student asked him in French.

Harry blushed. “I’m sorry,” Harry apologized in the same language.

The Beauxbatons student laughed. “Don’t be,” he said. “We’re a little Quidditch mad ourselves, some of us. It’s too bad France lost in the qualifiers.”

“I think it’s hard not to be a little Quidditch mad,” Harry answered with a grin. “Unless you’re my best friend, who’s the closest I have to a sister.”

The student laughed again. “It’s not for everyone. What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry, how rude of me. I’m Harry. Harry Potter,” Harry introduced himself, hoping it wouldn’t cause a scene. He held out his hand across the table.

The other student’s eyes widened, but he accepted the hand and they shook briefly. “I’m Guillame Moureau. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

“Please, call me Harry,” Harry insisted. He tapped Hermione’s arm to get her attention from talking to Fred Weasley on her other side. “This is my almost-sister, Hermione Granger,” he introduced her to Guillame, still in French, when she turned to face them. “Hermione, this is Guillame Moureau, one of our guests.”

Hermione smiled brightly and held out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Moureau,” she replied, also in French. 

Guillame’s eyes brightened when he realized she was even more fluent than Harry. “The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle,” he purred in lightly accented English, clearly switching languages to flatter her. He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. Hermione blushed, and Guillame grinned as he released her hand. He switched back to French, obviously pleased to have at least some of the Hogwarts students to speak with in his native tongue. “I hadn’t expected to meet students here who speak French on the very first day. You have an excellent grasp of inflection.”

“My family likes to travel, and I enjoy learning languages,” Hermione replied. “It’s good to practice when others are available, too, so it’s definitely good to have you with us.”

“Are you going to be volunteering for the Tournament?” Guillame asked.

Harry shook his head. “I’m not of age,” he explained. “And regardless, I’m happy to cheer on our champion from the stands.”

Guillame nodded. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t want to compete, but I understand your position.” He paused, looking down the table. “However, I’m not sure I could handle the staring.”

“Huh?” Harry asked, shocked. He looked where Guillame was looking and he saw his Quidditch team all staring at him. 

“You speak  _ French _ ?” Alicia asked, clearly stunned.

“Um… yes?” Harry replied, though it sounded more like a question.

“I’ve been teaching him,” Hermione spoke up. “I like languages. I speak French, Italian, Spanish and German to varying degrees.” She shrugged. “My grandmere always said any truly educated person should speak at least three languages. She herself speaks six fluently. But she grew up in the part of central France where it’s only a short trip to Italy, Germany, or Switzerland. Spain isn’t a lot further, either.”

Everyone blinked at Hermione, surprised. Harry just shook his head, smiling at his sister. He knew she rather enjoyed startling wizards and witches with just how educated her Muggle family was, battling the ‘ignorant muggle’ stereotypes in her own way. And things like this really threw people for a loop sometimes. “Show off,” he teased her.

“Where did your grandmother grow up?” Guillame asked in English, recovering much faster than their housemates.

“Near Saint-Étienne,” Hermione replied. “She’s retired, of course, and lives closer to the Mediterranean coast now.”

“Of course.” Guillame nodded knowingly. “Better weather there.”

“When did you two have time to learn French, along with all your other classes?” Katie interrupted, still quite shocked.

Harry sighed. “While we were in the Library. Studying. Which is something we do regularly.” He traded glances with Hermione and saw her roll her eyes. “French isn’t that hard. The rules are pretty consistent, and they have far fewer exceptions to the rules than English does.”

Guillame nodded. “English is one of the hardest languages. Though I have heard Japanese is similarly challenging.”

“Some of the Arabic derivatives are also supposed to be quite tough, too,” Hermione agreed. “The Latin-based languages aren’t so bad, really.”

“I’d love to learn,” Katie said, directing her comment to Fleur, the Beauxbatons student sitting across from her. 

“Will you help me improve my English?” Fleur asked, her voice heavily accented.

Katie hesitated for a moment, processing what Fleur said, then smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to.” 

Harry made a mental note to pass word around the school to be careful of using slang around their guests. Idiomatic English was supposed to be even harder than properly grammatical English, and it would help avoid confusion if people remembered to avoid or explain such things to their guests.

“We know you won’t be joining our classes,” Fred began with a smile to the French students.

“But perhaps we can start a study group to help learn languages, for anyone interested?” George finished, matching his twin’s smile.

Half the table shot suspicious glances at the Weasley twins; for them, the commentary was extremely simplified. Everyone was so used to their twin-speak, it was immediately noticed when they limited it. It was almost as weird as finding out Harry could speak French readily.

“We would be pleased to join such a group,” one of the other Beauxbatons students spoke up. “And I think I know who to ask, if you would like to invite the Durmstrang students as well.”

“That would be perfect,” Katie beamed. “Maybe Monday evening, after dinner, in the Library?”

“We’ll spread the word,” the Weasley twins spoke in unison.

Harry chuckled and turned his attention back to his meal; given the way Fred and George worked, Harry wondered if they’d have to get permission to take over the Great Hall for their meeting on Monday. He didn’t think they could cram the whole school and all their guests into the Library. Even if some of the Slytherins didn’t come because it was Gryffindors promoting the idea.

While the lighting of the Goblet of Fire was interesting, Harry found his mind wandering. There was a lot that was going to be happening this year, even by his standards. In addition to his classes, there was watching the tournament and a possible death threat and organizing the safe house… all without telling anyone. Both he and Hermione were still fairly stable in their top spots in school, so they were positive that they were ready for the extra responsibilities, but still, it weighed on Harry. 

After dinner let out, Harry and Hermione parted ways with the Beauxbatons students, bidding them good night, then returned to Gryffindor tower. No sooner had Harry entered than Katie, Angelina, and Alicia dragged him into a corner. 

“We’ve been ignoring the hints for a long time, Harry but we agreed that it’s time you know that we know,” Angelina said. 

“Know what?” Harry questioned, feigning ignorance. 

“We know that you’ve been staying with Hermione since after your first year,” Katie said quietly after Alicia cast a spell so no one could overhear them.

Harry’s jaw dropped. He thought he’d been careful! “You know… are you going to… tell anyone?” he asked.

“Relax, Harry,” Alicia reassured him with a small smile. “We’re not going to tell anyone. We know we’ve only figured it part of it, though we think we might not be the only people to have done so, but if you don’t want to talk about this, we understand.”

“Then why...?” Harry couldn’t quite formulate the question, still startled.

“Because we’re your friends, of course,” Angelina huffed. “And we want you to know we’re here to help if you need it.”

“I should tell Hermione,” was the first sentence Harry managed to formulate.

Katie caught Hermione’s eye and waved her over. “What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“They know,” Harry revealed.

“They,” Hermione looked from Harry to the chasers and back to Harry. “Of course they know.”

“What?” Harry spluttered. “You knew?”

“Well, I suspected,” Hermione revealed. “Most of Gryffindor probably suspects bits and pieces. They’ve seen me react to you being in trouble too many times. Plus we’re  _ always _ together.”

Alicia nodded. “Most of it is rumor, except for those who actually know you, Harry,” she agreed. “You two have been careful, I’ll give you that, but even small pieces of a puzzle can form a bigger picture if you have enough of them.”

Harry let out a heavy breath. “I suppose.” He studied the older girls for a long moment, then shrugged. “The Grangers have adopted me. Legally, in the Muggle world at least. I don’t really want to talk about it, but… well, let’s just say that my guardians before Hogwarts were…” He didn’t know if he could take Katie or Alicia or Angelina looking at him with pity. He didn’t want to admit he’d been abused.

“Muggles poorly equipped to handle a magical child dropped in their laps,” Hermione finished for him when he struggled to find the words. 

“Fair enough,” Katie said, accepting the limited explanation. “Anyway, that’s why we pulled you aside. We didn’t want to lie to you about what we knew.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you.”

Alicia undid the privacy spell. “How about a game of gobstones before bed?” she asked.

They ended up playing until the small hours of the morning. With no classes the next day, even Hermione stayed up. The next day would be Halloween, too, which Harry was vehemently trying to ignore. He felt better than the years previous, admittedly, since he’d found Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. But since he had opened his family home, he’d been unable to stop thinking about or dreaming about the life that should have been. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween and the Goblet of Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to our wonderful readers. Your comments, kudos and support are amazing and uplifting for us both.
> 
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The Goblet of Fire

 

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The next day, Halloween, was a Saturday. Harry’s effort to ignore the anniversary was helped by the fact that he had homework and the AA. He felt better than he had years previous, admittedly, since he’d found Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot and learned who his parents really were. But, since he had opened his family home, he’d been unable to stop thinking about or dreaming about the life that should have been. 

Of course, given the date, that’s exactly what Harry dreamed about the night before. Growing up with his first Mum and Dad, as well as Sirius and Remus. The possibility of younger siblings. A life where his life wasn’t constantly under threat. All of the “what if” scenarios he’d ever imagined for himself, only now with pictures and stories to make them more “real.”

Dreams that were so wonderful, he woke with a smile on his face only to have his mood plummet when he recognized his bed at Hogwarts and understood the dreams had only been dreams. It was enough to make him want to cry, even though he told himself he was getting too old for tears.

He also felt ashamed for being ungrateful for what he had. His family would go to the ends of the Earth for him. They’d already sacrificed so much for him. He resolved to stop thinking about what might have been and to start appreciating what he had. Harry quickly dressed with the sixth year boys, then went down to the common room to meet Hermione for breakfast.

Like the years previous, Harry was quieter than normal. His fellow Gryffindors had grown to expect it and respected that Halloween was a day that he needed a little distance. Unfortunately, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students hadn’t gotten the memo. Many of the students were staring at Harry as he entered the Great Hall, carrying his parents’ annual letter of love and support this day in particular. The whispers were a louder, and the stares a little longer. Harry tried his best to ignore the discussions happening all around him, but he was unable to escape it. It was something Hermione couldn’t shield him from, though she could sometimes distract him with other things.

“You celebrate Harry Potter Day in England, yes?” A Beauxbatons student asked at breakfast, a little ways down from where Hermione and Harry sat. Harry hadn’t met them the night before. “The defeat of You-Know-’oo?” Harry stiffened.

“Some people do,” was the reluctant answer given by the seventh year addressed. An apologetic glance was sent Harry’s way. “It’s not really something the school does, though.”

“Why not, though?” The Beauxbatons student asked, unaware that Harry had ducked his head. He’d gone slightly pale and was having a bit of trouble breathing. Katie, who was sitting on the other side of Harry, reached out and squeezed his hand to give him an anchor. Hermione leaned in close, deliberately taking slow, deep breaths and hoping Harry’s would even out. Fleur and Guillame both looked at him in concern, then their eyes widened in realization.

“Louis,” Fleur snapped. “Arrête! Stop it.”

Louis glanced down the table and spotted Harry, looking more haggard than any fourth year ought, then blushed. “Apologies,” he muttered.

“Enough of us lost family members due to the war that we’re careful about dates like today,” Ginny piped up defensively as Harry managed to catch his breath. “There aren’t many in our generation who didn’t lose someone. Entire families nearly died out because of the war.” There was a murmur of agreement around her.

“The defeat of an evil man, wizard or otherwise, is worth recognizing,” another of the seventh years chimed in. “But you’ll have to understand that celebrating the deaths of our families and friends isn’t something we’re excited about.”

Dean nodded in agreement, directly across from Louis. “Just because Harry’s the most visible doesn’t mean the rest of us want to talk about it either. We know you didn’t mean anything by it, but we have our reasons for not celebrating… for just celebrating Halloween and respecting each other’s needs.” Ron, sitting next to Dean, nodded along. Harry smiled at his House-mates, silently thanking them for their support, and slowly the conversation went elsewhere. 

After breakfast, Harry and Hermione excused themselves to the library and snuck into the AA room for some privacy.

Draco came in soon after, scowling. “The Durmstrang kids wanted to know how we celebrate the defeat of Voldemort,” he explained. “I thought there was going to be a riot right there at our table. Honestly, some of these Durmstrang kids have no sense of self-preservation. Do they not know who our parents are? Do they not know the house’s reputation?”

“A Beauxbatons student wanted to know why we didn’t celebrate ‘Harry Potter Day’,” Hermione retorted acidically.

Draco laughed dryly. “That has always been a stupid holiday,” he concluded.

“Hear hear,” Harry whispered.

“I think it’s just too soon,” Hermione offered gently. “A lot of people in a lot of countries celebrate the end of World War II and the defeat of Hitler. Plus, for the wizards, the defeat of Grindelwald. The difference is that those events happened long enough ago for the losses in those wars not to be directly affecting many people. They’ve been able to put it behind them and move on.”

“Yeah, but if Voldemort isn’t actually gone, it’s an empty celebration anyway,” Harry retorted. “It’s all just so stupid.”

“Really stupid,” Draco agreed. “At least the feast tonight won’t be about you, since they’re pulling the champions names out of the Goblet…”

“Slytherins and Gryffindors cheering for the same person,” Harry jested. “It’s a miracle.”

Draco laughed. “At least there’s no Quidditch this year. You ruined flying for me Potter, thanks for that.”

“According to your alter-ego, I ruin everything,” Harry teased, his mood improving. Draco smiled when he saw he’d accomplished what he was after.

“Hey guys!” An excited Neville rushed into the room, carrying a rather large box. Theo and Blaise followed not too far behind him. “We got a package!”

“We?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Yes. See?” Neville set the box down, and the label was addressed to  _ Lord Harry Potter, Lord Neville Longbottom & Associates. _

“What is it?” Blaise asked, Neville’s excitement transmitting itself around the room.

Harry and Neville tore into the box, between them, and the others watched with interest. Harry pulled a smaller package out of the larger box; the packaging was brightly colored, with the label reading, “Charmed Sports Beverage Bottle.”

There were a dozen such packages in the box. And a long set of documents, containing both their patent and a more detailed marketing plan than their original business plan.

“We did it!” Draco exclaimed. “What does the letter say?”

Harry and Neville held the parchment between them, reading quickly. “It says these are the first run of trial product, and recommends we use them whenever possible.”

“It also suggests giving away a few to selected recipients,” Neville added. “To provoke interest in the product. Oh… I wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Theo prodded. 

“If we could get Krum to use one,” Neville responded thoughtfully. “If he endorsed the product, word would get out to his fans and we’d probably get a lot of customers.”

“Brilliant. How did you get them made?” Draco chimed in.

“Once the legal process was started, we turned it over to my Gringott’s account manager,” Harry said absently, still skimming the documents he held. “He’s been running the Potter business interests since… actually, since my grandparents, I think he said.”

“With the process and charm modification process patented, the directions could be shared with whomever was hired to actually produce them in quantity,” Hermione added.

“I hope we can generate some interest in them,” Draco said fervently. “It would be nice to have some income my parents don’t know about.”

“That’s the next step,” Neville agreed.

“Bagman’s here too,” Harry noted.

Hermione shook her head. “Apparently the twins bet him that Krum would catch the snitch but Ireland would win at the World Cup and Bagman refused to pay them their winnings OR refund their money. I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing business with someone like that.”

“I agree,” Draco said. “Bagman has a certain… reputation. He’s a cheat who only cares about himself.” Draco looked rather disgusted at that. “It’s people like that that give Slytherin a bad name. I’ve heard about him endorsing certain products then demanding a percentage of the profits because they ‘owed’ him.”

“Who else do we know who’s famous who can endorse a water bottle?” Neville asked.

“We could give one to each school’s champion for the tournament, maybe?” Harry suggested. “They’ll all be getting a lot of attention, I’m sure.”

“Possibly,” Draco conceded. “Though it’s not guaranteed they’ll be flying.”

“They don’t necessarily need to. If they’re popular champions, simply having their interest in the product could accomplish some of what we want,” Hermione pointed out. “If we can quote them as saying they’d recommend the product to anyone interested, that would be useful. Krum is probably still the best angle, as far as sports enthusiasts, but…”

“Both Cedric and Angelina play Quidditch,” Neville added. “If one of them is selected for the tournament, it could help us with a bit of both angles. The champion and someone who loves flying.”

“I’m sure Uncle Sirius would be happy to endorse it,” Harry said. “He has a flying motorbike registered with the Ministry.”

“Really?” Draco asked, surprised. “How? They don’t give out licenses for that kind of thing too often.”

Harry shrugged. “It was while he was an auror,” he explained. “Uncle Sirius and my father apparently rode all over England on it, chasing down Dark Wizards. I think they let him keep  the license as part of the apology for… you know.”

Blaise nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Harry, you can write to your Uncle, and we can talk to whichever champions are declared tonight.”

They helped each other with homework the rest of the morning, then studied for an upcoming potions exam in the afternoon. Given last year’s exams, Harry, Draco, and Hermione were officially the top three students in Potions. On the surface, Snape was still just as terrible and foul as ever to Harry, but away from prying and spying eyes, Snape was Harry’s biggest mentor.

Hermione, too, benefited from Snape’s understated support in private. Though he still muttered things like, “insufferable know-it-all,” in class, she knew privately that he was impressed with her work and her knowledge. He simply wanted her to learn to look beyond the textbook answers, because much like cooking, potion-making was as much an art as a science. Listening to her gut reaction rather than what her brain knew was hard for her, but she was getting better.

Neville was blowing up cauldrons with far less frequency, now that he was comfortable in Snape’s presence. Between that and the tutoring he and Draco had exchanged, his potions grades were coming up. He was hoping for an E for the term, this year.

Draco, similarly, was doing much better with Herbology under Neville’s instruction. Harry vaguely wondered if they could have a joint class this year or next. After all, Neville was an expert on where potion ingredients came from and the techniques in preparing them, it was simply the act of brewing that he struggled with. He wished that the others in class could see that.

Finally, it was time for the feast. Draco and Blaise left first, and then Harry, Neville, and Hermione headed to their table. 

“All right there, Angelina?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” Angelina responded, looking nervous. 

Fleur looked nervous too. Expressions across the hall reflected nervous anticipation, and some excitement from the younger students. Conversations were more subdued than usual, though the feast was excellent as always and the Great Hall was lavishly decorated. Spiced apple cider accompanied the usual pumpkin juice for the occasion, and all the usual favorites filled the tables.

Crouch stepped forward. “The time has come,” he announced. “Dumbledore, as headmaster of the hosting school, please step forward and the Goblet will choose the three champions.”

Dumbledore stepped forward and waved his wand at the Goblet. Whatever results Dumbledore was expecting, he apparently received because he nodded. “The Goblet of Fire is ready to announce the champions. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind students to support their champions, no matter  _ who _ is chosen.” Harry snorted as Dumbledore scanned the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Yeah, that was likely. Harry was all for supporting a Slytherin if they were chosen, but he doubted that would be a collective conclusion. 

The fire turned purple and a small piece of paper was spit out. Dumbledore caught the paper. “The champion from Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore announced. Durmstrang exploded into cheers as Viktor blushed and rose, walking towards the front. Dumbledore directed Viktor to a small room off the side of Great Hall.

“The champion from Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!” Dumbledore announced. Cheers erupted from the Beauxbatons students, and several Gryffindors were cheering along with them. Harry high-fived Fleur before she went up to the front herself, and disappeared into the tiny room.

“The champion from Hogwarts,” Dumbledore started, Harry could feel the tension mount as every Hogwarts student collectively held their breath. “Is Cedric Diggory!” 

The Hufflepuffs absolutely exploded, banging their fists on the table and cheering loudly. Angelina looked a little disappointed, but Harry was thrilled to see every single Quidditch player at Hogwarts was cheering right along with Hufflepuff, and the AA was clapping extra hard.

“Now,” Dumbledore continued as Cedric disappeared into the little room. “The three champions will be receiving instructions for the first task which will be -” Dumbledore stopped as the entire hall gasped. The fire turned purple again. Harry’s stomach went through the floor, getting a very bad feeling. A slip of paper was spit out. “Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said in shock.

The entire hall went silent. Harry ducked his head as everyone stared at him. Hermione trembled, trying some of the breathing techniques their therapist had recommended that summer. While the therapist still knew nothing about the full truth, she knew that Harry’s life had been threatened multiple times. She helped Hermione with the anxiety that came with watching Harry be targeted and helped Harry with meditating into a safe space in his mind, even if it wasn’t safe outside.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called again.

“Harry,” Katie hissed. “Go.”

Neville tugged him out of his seat and Harry suddenly felt every single eye in the Great Hall, including Moody’s magical one, on him. 

It was agonizing, walking up to the front. The way Snape stared at him. Harry knew that to others it appeared he was looking at him scathlingly, but Harry could see the terror, and the horror, and the pain coming from Snape’s gaze. McGonagall, meanwhile, looked openly horrified. Karkaroff and Madam Maxime were glancing suspiciously between Harry and Dumbledore. 

“Sir, I didn’t do it,” Harry said as soon as he was close enough. “I didn’t put my name in. I wasn’t anywhere  _ near _ the Goblet…”

Dumbledore raised a hand and Harry cut himself off. Sighing softly, Harry followed the gesture that sent him to the small room with the others chosen. Given the sound of chairs scraping the floor, he suspected others would be following in moments.

“Harry?” Cedric asked. He, Fleur, and Viktor had all looked up when he entered. “Harry, what happened?”

“I…the goblet…” Getting expelled seemed like a really excellent idea just then, Hermione’s opinions notwithstanding. He wouldn’t get to see his friends as often but he’d get an education and no one would be constantly trying to murder him. “I swear, I didn’t…”

“You’re safe here, Harry. You’re with friends,” Cedric reassured him, kneeling on the floor in front of the younger boy. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“A fourth name came out of the Goblet. My name,” Harry said in a near-whisper. “But I didn’t enter, I swear!”

Viktor frowned heavily, and Fleur gained a thoughtful look. She’d heard bits and pieces of Harry’s story. She knew how many times his life had been threatened. “I know Harry,” Cedric reassured him, “I trust you.”

The door banged open and Harry flinched, hard. Cedric went a little pale, but said nothing. Voices came in, arguing loudly.

“ _ Two _ champions, Albus?” Karkaroff snidely growled. “I don’t remember anything in negotiations about the host school getting two champions. What are you playing at?”

“As I have said,” Dumbledore said patiently, “I had no previous knowledge of this and must ask Mr. Potter some questions prior to making an accurate assessment.” Madame Maxime frowned.

“Potter’s always getting into places he doesn’t belong,” Snape drawled, putting on a show for the crowd. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was involved in nefarious dealings.”

“There were extenuating circumstances, which you know full well, Professor,” McGonagall interjected. It was rather entertaining, Harry thought, how they were putting on a show for Dumbledore and the others. It was entertaining enough that Harry was briefly distracted from why they were there. Very briefly.

“Harry,” Dumbledore asked. He had added the same tone as he’d had after Harry had faced Quirrell. Harry despised that tone. “Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Harry objected, doubling down on his facade. In reality he wished more than anything it was just Snape, McGonagall, and Cedric in the room so he could break down. “I was with people all last night and all day today. I couldn’t have done it.”

Snape snorted. Dumbledore shot him a dirty look. “Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you? As I recall you’re currently living with the sixth years.”

Fleur and Viktor both looked at him curiously. “Sir, with all due respect, I’ve come close to dying three times in the last three years. Why would I volunteer for a competition that was originally designed to kill me?”

“Eternal glory,” Karkaroff drawled. Harry resisted the urge to punch him. Or knee him in the groin. “Is it not what everyone wants?”

“I  _ don’t _ ,” Harry said with finality. Madame Maxime looked at Harry searchingly. Harry realized that the Beauxbatons students must have reported back to her. He remembered she wasn’t entirely skilled in English and he switched to French. “On my life, I didn’t enter my name,” he promised. “I don’t want eternal glory. I don’t even want the fame I already have. I just want to be a kid.”

Madame Maxime smiled at him gently. “So many of my students are in a rush to grow up,” she said softly. “But you understand.”

Harry nodded. He certainly understood that no one should be in a rush to grow up. He had grown up too quickly the first ten years of his life. This time now, the time he could be a kid… he would rather die than give it up. Madame Maxime glanced at Fleur who nodded, but looked at Harry rather worriedly. Harry felt the same worry she was showing, and didn’t care if everyone could see it. He was a full three years younger than the others and he was going to be expected to compete.

“Eet iz not okay, Dumblee-dore,” Madame Maxime said carefully, “but we do not blame zee boy.”

Karkaroff went off at this in clear disagreement with Madame Maxime’s declaration, but Moody cut off his rant before it could begin. “Rather convenient,” Moody drawled. “Entering Potter into a deadly contest where he’s bound to compete. The magic involved in bewitching the Goblet into thinking there were four different schools would be magic far beyond even the most advanced fourth year.”

“I think we can continue this discussion up in my office,” Dumbledore suggested.

After the meeting, wherein it was concluded that the rules of the tournament would not allow Harry to drop out of the competition in any way, followed by the discussion detailing the first task, Harry left Dumbledore’s office in a half-daze. Dumbledore had wanted to speak with him, but Harry was at the end of his tether, and he needed to get someplace safe to break down.

His feet took him to the Library and then to the AA room, almost without his mind’s input. Fortunately, the whole group was there waiting for him and Cedric; they’d clearly slipped out of the Feast while he was with the professors, and Harry was grateful. He dropped into his usual chair beside Hermione, and his sister immediately stood and wrapped him in a hug.

“Oh, Harry,” she murmured. “Why do these things keep happening to you?”

The tension that had been winding around Harry suddenly broke and he whipped around in an effort to hide the tears that slipped over his cheeks. He was able to reign it back in and hurriedly wiped the tears away. 

“It’s okay to be upset, Harry,” Adella said gently. “I would be, in your place. It’s quite clear that you didn’t do this. I don’t think any of us in here would be capable of altering the magic on the Goblet to make it think there was a fourth school with a single entrant.”

Cedric’s expression was torn between concern and anger. “It’s ridiculous that there’s no way to drop from the Tournament, once chosen by the Goblet,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to be eligible anyway, and the fact is someone else entered you without your knowledge or consent. Someone has rigged this situation, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”

“The other schools think it’s not fair, Hogwarts having two entries into the Tournament,” Harry pointed out.

“I think that’s just to turn them against you, honestly,” Cedric said. “But I don’t think it worked the way they wanted it to. Look, Harry… I do want to win the Tournament, but I won’t do it by letting you get hurt or killed. If you want, we can work together to prepare as well as we can.”

“We’ll all help,” Theo added. “I’m pretty sure between us, we can research or innovate you some options for the challenges. Both of you.”

“I’m still sorry,” Harry said to Cedric. “I know… this was supposed to be Hufflepuff’s moment.”

“It still can be,” Luna spoke up. “If your goal is just to survive, Harry, then it’s still possible for Cedric to win.”

“Besides, Hufflepuff would never forgive me if I won by failing to support you,” Cedric said with a grin. “If I’m going to win, it’s going to be because I did what was  _ right. _ ”

“I’m just saying,” Harry disagreed. “During the tournament, all of Hogwarts should be cheering for one champion. Fleur and Viktor are going to get unified support from their school mates. You deserve that too, Cedric. The fact that my life is being threatened for the fourth year running shouldn’t distract from that.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Slytherin will be supporting Cedric by default,” Blaise drawled. 

“Publically,” Draco added. “Privately… well, let’s just say there are murmurs among the Slytherins, about not wanting to make the same mistakes our parents did. And plenty of the quieter Slytherins actually don’t mind Harry. Especially the Slytherin girls, after he stood up to Weasel about Hermione so many times. He’s making an effort to learn what the name of Potter means, as well as learning our traditions. There’s a certain amount of respect that comes with that.”

“I’ve had fewer problems with the Slytherins, too, especially some of the girls,” Hermione added. “Since Tracey Davis asked me about Muggle culture, after Madam Tonks’ introductory seminars, there have been a lot fewer people sniping about Muggle inferiority. Aside from some of the die hards, of course.”

“Our Gryffindor friends will be supportive of Harry, obviously,” Neville said. “But I think we could talk to them and get them to support Cedric as the primary champion. Harry will need support, definitely, but if his goal isn’t to win there aren’t really any divided loyalty issues.”

“If that’s settled, we should probably go to bed. It’s really late,” Hermione said. “Meet back here tomorrow after breakfast?”

The group all agreed. It was late, but thanks to the holiday and the feast, curfew had been suspended for the evening. So at least getting back to their dorms wasn’t a problem. Though the furor they found in the Gryffindor common room made Harry think it was unlikely they’d be able to slip in and head right to bed.

Most of the younger students had gone to bed, but the older students were mostly still up and speculating about the Tournament. All eyes turned to the trio of fourth years as they entered the tower. Harry noticed his closest friends were all huddled in a corner, looking worriedly at him. 

“How’d you enter the tournament Harry?” Colin Creevey asked, breaking the silence.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “Does this tournament seem like something I’d ever do willingly?”

“But… you’ve done all that stuff…” Dennis Creevey piped up. Many students murmured and nodded in agreement.

“Right,” Harry said flatly. “Because I was the only one who could, or I had no other choice. Keep in mind I’ve nearly died three times while at Hogwarts and I have no real desire to risk my life again.”

“Harry didn’t enter himself,” Neville spoke up. “He was with us and some other friends all day,” he added, nodding towards Hermione.

“All right, you lot,” the seventh year prefect broke in. “Harry looks dead on his feet, and we all know today’s not his day. We can talk tomorrow and Harry can tell us what he wants us to do. For now, try not to spread unfounded rumors, yeah?”

There was begrudging agreement, and everyone went to bed. Fred, George, Lee, and Ken were all waiting for him when he got to the sixth year dorm room. They had tried to make it look like they weren’t, each busying themselves near their own beds. Harry went to his bed and quickly changed to his pyjamas. “You guys believe me, right?” Harry asked quietly. 

Ken rolled his eyes. “Harry, no offense but after last year… that’s a bloody stupid question.” Ken looked nervous and pale. “There isn’t a bloke in this room who has a sliver of doubt that someone’s trying to kill you again. We’re here for you, whatever you need. One unified front.”

“Any help we can give, it’s yours,” Fred spoke up. George just nodded agreement, knowing Harry wasn’t in the mood for their usual antics.

“Thanks,” Harry breathed, shutting his eyes. Someone turned off the light, and the only sound was the rustling of blankets and curtains as everyone settled in. Harry waited until he felt Hermione’s familiar weight settle invisibly into bed beside him before allowing himself to fall asleep to the comforting sound of her breathing right beside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're aware of the fact that, per the calendar, Halloween 1994 was a Monday. Things worked out better for it to fall on a weekend, so please excuse the shift back a couple of days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione face the fallout from the Goblet of Fire spitting out Harry's name. And Harry must face the first task alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always go to you, our readers, for your reviews, kudos, and comments. Your love is why we continue to write.
> 
> Please remember that our first story in this series is up for a Marauder Medal. If you still want to vote, there's time! Go here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdGm5P_Ehq5Sjxdut6wJd71jZbh1EMQLREyDFhXlqhVfJ3VuA/viewform

Hermione woke Harry gently before getting up in the morning. She gave him a hug and a small smile before slipping out of his dorm and back to hers. Her dorm mates seldom cared where she was, and his never minded her presence, but it was still better not to get caught where she wasn’t supposed to be.

Harry showered and dressed for the day, then sat back on his bed to wait a little longer before going downstairs. Hermione needed extra time to deal with her hair usually, and Harry was perfectly willing to avoid people for a bit longer. Eventually, though, he had to give in and head downstairs so they could get breakfast.

Having put it off until the last minute, Harry walked down to the common room feeling like he was walking to an execution. He hated the staring and now it was going to be so much worse. Hermione was, thankfully, waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, as was, surprisingly, the rest of the Quidditch team. The common room was empty, otherwise, with everyone else down at breakfast. Harry’s Quidditch teammates flanked Harry and Hermione as they walked down from Gryffindor Tower. Thankfully, it was late enough that no one approached Harry in the hallway. When he entered the Great Hall, however, the entire hall, packed with students, stopped talking and stared at him. Every eye, save for Moody’s magical one, was again on him as he and his friends walked over to their seats at the Gryffindor table. He was rather surprised to see that Fleur had saved them seats around her. Then the whispering started.

“Are you okay, ‘arry?” his fellow Champion asked, looking at him curiously, ignoring the angry whispers and glares coming from three third-year girls at the Ravenclaw table.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said, resigned. “This isn’t the first time my life has been at risk. Really, I’ll be okay. I think I can limit the risk if I don’t try to win and just focus on surviving.”

Fleur studied him intently for a moment. Then she gave him a small smile. “I believe you. I will ‘elp, az much az I can.”

“That’s very kind of you, Fleur,” Hermione replied before Harry could protest. The more people in their corner, the better. “We wouldn’t want to take away from your own preparation for the tournament, of course, but perhaps if we all work together to keep Harry as safe as possible, whomever did this to him will not win.”

“Madame Maxime waz not ‘appy last night,” Fleur continued, her accent thickening slightly. “‘Zhe zought oo added ’our name at first. ‘Owever, ozzer students… zey ‘eard ze ztoriez… about ‘ow oo nearly died zo many times…”

“It’s true,” Hermione interjected, nodding. Harry glared at her. “He’s been a target more than once. It came pretty close the last couple times.”

Guillaume nodded from where he sat next to Fleur. “This is why Madame Maxime is not angry with you,” he said in French. “Despite her pride in Beauxbatons, she is not so proud that she would allow a child to be killed over a silly competition. Especially when we could prevent it.”

Harry blinked in surprise. He knew Professors Snape and McGonagall were almost as protective of him as Padfoot and Moony, as much as their positions would allow at least. But he hadn’t expected the same response from the Beauxbatons Headmistress. It struck Harry as something that Snape had expressed to him early on - most adults would want to prevent harm to any child.

“What is her position going forward, then?” Hermione asked, also in French. “Harry is theoretically competition, even if he doesn’t want to be.”

“We are all to watch for signs of cheating, either for or against you,” another girl, one who’d introduced herself as Helene, spoke up in her native tongue. “But as the situation stands, you are more a victim than an opponent. The Tournament rules state that the teachers cannot help outside of their mentorship role for their students, but that doesn’t mean we cannot.”

“I was already starting to research the Tournament, the types of challenges and possible options to overcome them. Now I’ll be looking for options that would be feasible for a fourth year student,” Hermione agreed. “Even if the rules forbid me from helping, I would’ve done it anyway. But there’s nothing there about help from other students, from research to practice.”

“It is one of the reasons why the hosting school rotates, when the Tournament is held regularly,” Fleur commented. “The Champion of the hosting school usually has a slight advantage, in both knowledge of the school and its environs as well as in support and others willing to help.”

After a sufficient time passed to allow them to eat, Professor McGonagall came to them. “Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, I need to see you in my office regarding a time-sensitive issue…” Harry’s friends stiffened. McGonagall sighed. “They are not in trouble,” she told the others.

The others relaxed and Harry and Hermione followed their professor to her office. Once inside, Harry saw Sirius and Remus waiting for them. Sirius launched himself at Harry and tightly embraced him while Remus hugged Hermione, leading her to the couch. “McGonagall owled us first thing this morning and scared us out of our minds,” Sirius explained. “Are you okay? How did this happen?”

“We don’t know,” Harry answered with a shrug. “Even if I had wanted to enter, neither Hermione nor I knows how to change the Goblet to make it think there’s a fourth school in the tournament. If it chose Cedric for Hogwarts, my name in the thing wouldn’t have mattered. And if it had called me instead of Cedric, then things would be different. But for it to happen like it did…”

“Harry and I were in the library all day yesterday,” Hermione added. “Harry didn’t go anywhere near the Goblet, and we have plenty of witnesses who can back us up. And Harry would never _ask_ someone to put his name in. He doesn’t want the attention.”

“So someone wants Harry in the tournament for some reason,” Remus said thoughtfully, though his voice was laced with concern. “But we don’t know who, or why. Only that the champion selection was set up so that there isn’t any way out of the contract.”

“Could this be part of the plot? From my dream?” Harry asked.

“The one about Voldemort?” Sirius asked, surprised. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t see how, but we can’t necessarily rule it out either.”

“What if someone gained access because of the tournament?” Hermione pointed out. “A lot of extra people from the Ministry are here.”

“I appear to be uninformed,” McGonagall started, looking confused. “What dream are you talking about?”

“Harry had a dream,” Sirius said shortly. “That Voldemort had killed Bertha Jorkins and was plotting to kill Harry. With Bertha currently missing…”

McGonagall went pale. “You should know then… Karkaroff is currently the headmaster of Durmstrang.”

“Karkaroff,” hissed Sirius, his demeanor suddenly changed. “Karkaroff shouldn’t be allowed _anywhere_ near children.”

“Who…” Hermione started.

“What the hell is Dumbledore thinking, allowing a Death Eater in here?” Sirius continued.

“A Death Eater?” Harry repeated. “Really? Like… Professor Snape?”

“Nothing like Snape,” Remus said quietly. “Snape was a spy who came to our side nearly two years before the end of the war after realizing he made a mistake due to his youth. Karkaroff tortured people until the end of the war and informed on fellow Death Eaters in exchange for a Pardon. People said he took particular pleasure in torturing muggles and muggle-borns during the war.”

Hermione went slightly peaky. “So it’s possible,” Harry said solemnly, going a bit gray. “Voldemort could be trying to kill me, using the tournament either as the means or as a distraction to make it look accidental.”

“We’ll be with you, Harry,” Sirius assured him. “Every step of the way.”

“The first task is in three weeks, but they won’t tell us what it is. It’s supposed to test our nerves.”

“Judging by your penchant for running into a situation without thinking, I believe you will pass that test with flying colors,” Remus jested.

“Uncle Moony,” Harry groaned, rolling his eyes.

“You know how to get past a dangerous barrier, Harry. You’ve done it before. Just think, what are you good at?” Remus asked seriously.

“Flying, Defense, and Potions,” Harry remembered.

“Then you should practice those. You could carry a bunch of potions on you to the Task that would help in various situations.”

“But how? What if I’d need something I’m supposed to learn next year or the year after?”

“Sometimes, Harry,” Sirius advised. “The simplest solutions are the easiest ones. And you always have a back up plan in case of emergency.” Sirius eyed him and Harry remembered about his and Hermione’s animagus forms. Harry had found over the summer that he was a jackal, and had made great strides in transforming. His form was almost completed, in fact. He could probably complete his transformation in the next three weeks.

Hermione had been slightly ahead of him initially, having identified her panther much earlier. But once he identified his form, he’d quickly caught up. With Sirius supervising their practice, they’d been allowed to work on their transformations all summer. Harry could now transform, with effort, but it wasn’t as fluid as it needed to be to truly be considered an animagus. If he focused, he believed he could finish on time. Hermione would likely practice with him, unless she thought research would be more useful.

So Harry nodded at Sirius, and turned his attention back to McGonagall. “Professor, would it be possible to request time and materials to work on potions for the tournament? Or to send out an order for ingredients, if the school can’t provide them?”

McGonagall nodded. “Certainly. There are a few potions labs accessible to NEWTs level students, and I believe arrangements could be made to allow you access to them. As for potion ingredients, any ingredients can be ordered from a shop in Hogsmeade during your next weekend in time for the task. If for some reason it would take longer, you may use the school’s supplies and replace them when your order arrives.”

“We should get to the library,” Harry said slowly. “I mean, I have to compete… and I have to keep up on my school work…”

“We understand,” Remus said with a calming smile.

“Hold on,” Sirius said, fishing something out of a small bag. Harry was a bit surprised when he saw that he’d pulled out a mirror. “I wanted to give you this.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know what I look like, Uncle Padfoot. I don’t think anyone will ever let me forget.”

“It’s actually one-half of a two-way mirror I found when I was going through some old stuff,” Sirius explained. “It was your father’s. I have the other one. We, er,” he glanced at McGonagall. “We used to use them when we both had detention so we could talk to each other.”

McGonagall snorted. “If you think we didn’t know about that, you severely underestimate our intelligence, Mr. Black.” Sirius blushed. “Granted, none of us had any idea that three of you trained to become animagi so that you could accompany Mr. Lupin once a month.” McGonagall chastised fiercely. Remus blushed too. “I trust Mr. Potter will not use such traditions for such frivolous means.”

“Er, no Professor,” Harry promised.

Remus smiled and Sirius sighed. “Harry’s a more serious student than James and I ever were. He’s more like Lily, in that respect,” Sirius commented. “I’m sure he’ll be more responsible with them than we were…” Though he didn’t sound entirely pleased about it, Harry didn’t mind. It was nice to hear himself compared to his birth mother for a change, rather than his father.

“Thank you,” Harry finally remembered to say as he took the mirror. “I’ll be careful with it.”

“We’re available anytime, if you need us,” Remus reminded the two teens. “We understand if there are some things you feel you need to handle for yourselves, but remember that you don’t _have_ to do anything on your own.”

“I know,” Harry answered lowly, that feeling of warmth his family often caused suffusing him once again.

“One more thing,” Remus said carefully. “Harry, I know that you’re much more mature than most of your peers, but I don’t want you going off by yourself or away from people that you absolutely trust.”

Harry sighed, but nodded his acceptance. It wasn’t often he went anywhere without Hermione anyway, and if they were meeting with their tournament mentors, Cedric should also be nearby. But there was still the tournament itself... “I’ll do my best. I have no way to guess what will happen during the tournament tasks, though.”

“I know,” Remus agreed. “Just do the best you can. And thank you. I know you don’t like it, but it really is for the best.”

“Think of it this way, pup,” Sirius added. “James, Remus and I never went anywhere without at least one of the others along. We were a team, a… a family. You keep your team close, and everything should be fine.”

Harry relaxed a little. “I usually do anyway. It’s a good thing none of us are dating yet, though.” Sirius and Remus exchanged a look. “What?”

“About that…” Sirius said. “There’s a tradition, for the Triwizard tournament that Dumbledore warned me about, since he thinks I take you home for Christmas… Christmas Eve there’s a dance, and the Champions have to open it.”

“So I have to… ask a girl out?” Harry said slowly.

“You’ll likely get asked out moreso than anything else,” Remus said evenly. “You’re both The Boy Who Lived _and_ a Champion.”

Harry groaned. What had happened to just surviving? “We’re always around if you need help,” Sirius said. “Though I advise you pick someone you’re comfortable around, that you socialize with often. High-stress situations don’t make for good first dates.”

“You can also just go with a friend if you’re not interested in anyone,” Remus offered.

“What about…” Harry froze, remembering where he usually went for Christmas. His _parents_. What did they think about all this? Did they know? He glanced at the portraits who all seemed to be listening to what Harry was saying.

“It’s being taken care of,” Sirius said carefully, passing Harry an envelope.  

Harry and Hermione eventually escaped to Harry’s dorm room, abandoned as it was Sunday, and sat on his bed, reading the letter from his Mum and Dad.

_Dear Harry and Hermione,_

_We’ve been informed that someone entered Harry in a very dangerous tournament. Don’t worry; we believe you didn’t enter for yourself, Harry. You’re more sensible than that. You do what you need to survive; we’re worried, of course, but you won’t be in trouble. It’s not your fault._

_Sirius explained what he was told about the ball over Christmas. We will miss you both, but we understand and appearances must be kept up. We’ve been assured gifts can still get to you on Christmas morning, in any case. So we want you to enjoy your holidays and the dance, and we’ll be content to wait until Easter to see you._

The handwriting changed from their Mum’s to their Dad’s.

_We know you’re probably scared. Rest assured that we’re with you and we love you both. Hermione, please don’t fret too much over your brother. We know this entire thing is scary, but he has a good head on his shoulders and he hasn’t been rushing off into danger unless pressed in a very long time. Harry, all I ask is that you stop and think before you act. You are smart and wise and stopping to think for just a moment could save your life._

_Be safe and be brave, loves._

_Mum and Dad_

Harry smiled. They always made sure to establish that they didn’t blame him when something happened. After ten years at the Dursleys, always being blamed for things Harry couldn’t control, even things unrelated to Harry, that damage was finally very slowly being undone at the Grangers’. They never got angry at him, never raised a hand to him… it had seemed so unbelievable at the time that a house like that could exist and that that house was _home_. Harry couldn’t fathom having to face the upcoming tasks without that support, without his family.

“It’s going to be strange, spending the hols here at school,” Hermione said after a moment. “I’m sure we’ll have fun. It will just be different.”

“It’s not so bad,” Harry said with a shrug, and Hermione recalled he’d stayed over all the holidays their first year.

“We’ll have to be sure to owl their gifts so they arrive on time,” Hermione mused thoughtfully. “We won’t be able to go shopping with them, though, so it could be harder to find things for them.”

“We’ll manage. I’m sure if we ask Uncle Moony to pick some things up for us, he will,” Harry answered. Hermione nodded. “Hey,” Harry said, seeing his sister’s pensive expression. “If you want to go home over the hols, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Hermione blinked. “What? No! I wasn’t thinking about that at all, I promise!”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about the ball, actually. I know we got dress robes, but we didn’t know why,” she admitted. “I don’t really have much in the way of jewelry or makeup or anything.”

Harry shrugged. “No, but there’s always Hogsmeade for that. Katie and Alicia would probably be happy to help you with it.”

“True. Assuming anyone asks me to go, anyhow.”

Harry bumped their shoulders together. “Don’t say things like that. You’ve got plenty of friends as options, even if there’s no one you’re interested in dating.”

Hermione pictured herself entering the Great Hall on the arm of one of her Slytherin friends and cracked up. “Can you just imagine me showing up with Draco or Theo? The school would have a heart attack!” Harry laughed with her, nodding in agreement.

“Neville could be an option, though. Or you and Luna,” Harry pointed out when they calmed.

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know that I really expect it, though. I suppose I could ask, maybe just as friends.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of time to figure out your options,” Harry consoled her. “At least the dancing lessons from Katie and Alicia a few years ago will come in handy. Might need a little practice, though.”

“We can make time for that after the first task, if you’d like,” Hermione suggested.

“I guess I can stress about who to date and how to dance later. Right now we should research potions and spells.  For whatever they have planned for the First Task.”

“Right, then. Library?” Hermione asked, jumping to her feet.

Upon their arrival in the library, a handful of the Beauxbatons students asked to join them. So instead of slipping off to their usual side room, they set up at the table Hermione had adopted as “hers” during their first year. It was near enough to their room that Hermione could keep an eye on the entry alcove as they studied.

Harry and Hermione did still spend a fair bit of their study time in the library proper. They helped classmates and younger students alike. Sometimes even older students asked for their help in finding books or reference materials. Harry had particularly enjoyed being helpful to others, especially at first. It had given him a boost in confidence regarding his intelligence and not having to hide it anymore.

The pair quickly got to work, researching potions and defensive spells that might be helpful during a test of nerve. They were prepared to work above their class level if needed, but they hoped they’d also find some options that would be simpler. The less Harry had to actively learn for the Task, the better.

Under Professor McGonagall’s supervision, Harry and Hermione finally perfected their animagus transformations over the following week. Their professor’s eyes were suspiciously bright as she rested a hand on Harry’s jackal head and scratched behind Hermione’s panther ear with the other. “I’m so proud of you both,” she murmured. Hermione purred in response while Harry yipped.

Harry was rather fascinated by how much he could see and hear and smell in his animagus form. He also felt an undercurrent drive to hunt and compete, probably driven by the stress emanating from the Cup. The drive was soothed by contact with what his jackal-side registered as his ‘pack’ - the AA. All of the members had been very impressed by both Harry’s and Hermione’s forms, though Harry and Crookshanks wound up playing a rather complex version of chase around the room to the glee of all of its members.

Hermione also found the expanded senses of her animagus form interesting. She tended to spend most of her time in panther form lounging around in the sun or following interesting scents, but when she had room to run she was incredibly fast in short bursts. She also had incredibly sharp claws, which took some practice to keep sheathed while play-wrestling with Harry or their friends. Draco, Theo, Neville, and Luna all expressed interest in learning how to become animagi. Professor McGonagall conceded to teach them, if only because of the coming war.

With guests in the school, the AA found themselves mostly staying in the main library, with the exception of their regular Friday meetings. In some ways, they all decided it was nice to be out in the open and socializing with new people. But in other ways, it made them value their time together all the more.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to go home for Christmas hols this year,” Theo commented the next Friday afternoon. “The Yule Ball is a perfect reason to stay here, and one none of our parents will even think twice about.”

“I know,” Draco agreed, relief shining in his grey eyes. “I really didn’t want to have to deal with some of my father’s friends this year… they were absolutely terrifying after the World Cup.”

“Uncle Sirius says that the manor is almost ready,” Harry commented. “And once it’s ready, no one has to go home again.”

“Or rather, you’ll finally have a home to go to,” Hermione added reassuringly.

“I think that’ll be nice. Though, Merlin knows it’ll be quite the scandal if even just the three of us disappear,” Blaise mused.

“And the last person people will look at when it comes to your disappearance is going to be Harry Potter,” Harry joked.

“Or Hermione,” Neville added, chuckling. “Since most people will assume you’re enemies, given perceived blood status.”

“It’s so nice to be able to use public perception against people,” Draco said cheekily.

“When we refuse to go home and our parents are looking for us, will we be safe at school?” Theo asked with a touch of a frown. “I would hate to miss OWLs or NEWTs…”

“The last I heard, Professors Snape and McGonagall were discussing it,” Hermione told everyone. “We don’t want to act too rashly, but we also don’t want you at risk any more than you already are.”

“I…” Draco paused looking around as if to remind himself that he was in a safe place. “I can’t go home again. I _won’t_ go home again.”

“No one here is going to make you,” Hermione reassured him. “We’re currently working on ways to escape. Since your parents will likely be on the platform, we could glamour anyone who needs to escape. Alternatively, we could use a portkey. You would need to be seen _on_ the train going home, to establish you weren’t hiding at Hogwarts, then just… disappear.”

“If it… comes to it,” Harry added hesitantly. “If it comes to it, Hermione and I will tell Dumbledore everything, if it means that you guys will be able to come to school and not get pulled out by your parents.”

Theo had been silent considering everything and he looked at Harry sharply. “But that would mean… Harry… you’d really risk that?” he asked.

“Of course,” Harry confirmed.

Luna smiled. “I believe Harry would risk everything for a friend.”

“They can’t do that much to us any more,” Harry shrugged. “Hermione’s my sister, magically. I’ve been adopted by the Grangers in the muggle world and I have been for years. Too many people know me as the Grangers’ son, including extended family in other countries. My guess is that it’d violate too much of the statute of secrecy to undo it.”

“Sirius said he thought the worst that would happen is that he would get custody, and Sirius wouldn’t take him away from us,” Hermione added. She took a slow breath. “It’s a risk, but a small one. And it’s worth it, to keep all of you safe from your families.”

“We appreciate it Harry,” Adella said with a supportive smile. “Really we do.”

Harry was saved from responding by the door opening. “Good to see some things don’t change,” a familiar voice spoke up. Marcus grinned at them as he closed the door behind himself. “Are alumni welcome, I hope?”

“Marcus!” Several voices called out in greeting.

“Come in; of course you’re welcome,” Harry said with a grin.

“Unfortunately, I probably can’t get away every Friday,” Marcus said with a rueful shrug. “But I’m happy to drop in when I can.”

“It’s good to see you,” Cedric said. “I was hoping Hermione and Adella wouldn’t end up with a bigger burden this year, given the tournament and that those of us involved will probably be pretty busy.”

“I heard about what happened with Harry,” Marcus said, his mood dimming slightly. “Someone care to fill me in on what the public doesn’t know? Oh, and congrats on being chosen, Ced.” Knowing it was safe and Marcus could be trusted, the group filled him in on all the particulars about Harry in the tournament. Including offers from Cedric and Fleur to help as much as they could, to be sure Harry survived.

“I figured it had to be something like that,” Marcus said when they were done. “I’m definitely glad to hear about the other champions taking the threat to your life seriously. Has Krum said anything to you?”

“No,” Harry answered with a shake of his head. “Though he sits with the Slytherins, while most of the Beauxbatons students sit at the Gryffindor table for meals. I think that’s why Fleur believes me, to be honest. We’d started to get to know her and several of her classmates before the trouble started.”

“Krum doesn’t actually say much,” Blaise offered. “I haven’t quite decided if he’s struggling with the language or if he just doesn’t like to talk. I’m pretty sure he’s not just the typical jock, though; he’d have to be smart as well, in order to do well in the tournament.” The group nodded.

“So, Marc, tell us about your new job?” Theo asked, changing the subject for the moment. Marcus cheerfully obliged.

There were still some instances where some of them met in the AA room. The afternoon after Moody made them all go through the Imperius curse, the fourth year AA members all hung out together, not wanting to talk to anyone else. Harry turned into his jackal form and managed to climb to the top of the bookcase, where he could look down and watch everyone, disturbed by the way Moody had looked at him when he’d been able to throw it off.

“I don’t think it’s a ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ thing,” Theo theorized as the group attempted to talk him down. “You just… have a self-confidence that most teenagers don’t have. You know exactly who you are. The rest of us had just enough hesitation for Moody to get a foothold.”

“Another way to put it is that Harry’s too pigheaded for Imperius to work,” Draco quipped.

Harry let out a yipping laugh, and eventually came down. “It wasn’t that I could throw it off that bothered me most,” he said quietly. “It was the way Moody looked at me… it was creepy.”

His sister hugged him tightly. “We’ll figure out some way to keep him away from you, even during class,” she resolved.

The next week passed far too quickly. The weighing of the wands took place early in the week. Both Cedric and Fleur had advised him to clean his wand prior to the event so that Harry wasn’t embarrassed by his normally fingerprint-covered wand. Harry, who’d never even heard of wand cleaning before, was given tips by several pureblooded older students who had wand-cleaning kits they were happy to loan to Harry.

Harry had also had to fend off Rita Skeeter’s repeated attempts to interview him. The other champions, even Krum, finally backing Harry up when it was clear Skeeter wouldn’t leave him alone despite Harry repeatedly insisting he wasn’t interested in doing an interview.

“I’m a minor, ma’am,” Harry finally said firmly. “My godfather, Sirius Black, doesn’t want me to do any interviews without him present.” Sirius’ name still invoked fear from most people, unfortunately. At least this time, it was able to be used to Harry’s benefit. Cedric winked at Harry as Rita Skeeter paled and took several steps back, muttering something unintelligible.

Hours later, Harry was shocked when Hagrid took him out, under his invisibility cloak, to where the dragons for the first task were being penned; he told Hermione about it when he returned to the Tower, and the two agreed to tell Cedric the next day. They assumed Fleur and Krum already knew, given that Hagrid had taken Madam Maxime and Karkaroff was seen skulking about.

They found Cedric in the library after classes. Harry just went up to Cedric and before anyone could object, he pushed a book on nesting dragon mothers into Cedric’s hands. “You should read this,” Harry told Cedric firmly.

Before Cedric could react, Harry had gone to the other corner of the library with a stack of books of his own on potions. He and Hermione spent the evening pouring over the books; they had read about how dragons were thick-skinned and usually resistant to spells. But they thought perhaps if Harry could get a dragon to swallow a potion…

It would take excellent aim and a great sense of timing, but it wasn’t impossible. After all, he was the youngest seeker in a century. So they set about finding potions that would make a dragon less of a threat. Hermione found a way to create an edible container they could store potions in, as glass from a vial would likely hurt the dragon and potentially get points taken off. Draco helped Harry by checking the maths to make sure the dosage they prepared would effect a full-size mother dragon. By the time the third week came, Harry had four possible plans of ways to get past a dragon without getting hurt.

They decided to prepare all four, in the end. Harry would have to make a judgement call on which to use during the task, as he had no way to know ahead of time just what the goal was other than to live through the encounter. He and Cedric agreed they’d likely be told more the day of the task, but for now they could only prepare for possibilities.

The day of the first task dawned cold and clear. Harry could barely eat, all through breakfast, feeling just as nervous as he had just before his first Quidditch game ever. Except instead of other people, he’d be essentially playing against a giant fire-breathing dragon. “You should really eat something Harry,” Hermione said worriedly. “You’ll feel better for it, I promise.”

“I really don’t think I can,” Harry protested. Hermione just gave him a look and put a slice of toast on his plate, lightly buttered but without anything else on it. With a resigned sigh, Harry picked it up and nibbled on one corner. His sister fixed him a cup of tea next, but seemed to understand that she’d pushed him about as far as he’d let her and she turned back to her own breakfast.

After breakfast, McGonagall led Harry down to the Champions’ tent where they received final instructions from Bagman. Marcus was there, holding a silk, drawstring bag. After choosing the Horntail with the number 4 around its neck, Harry decided to use some of the breathing techniques that Professor Snape had taught him to center himself and reinforce his Occlumency shields. He hated waiting. Especially in situations like this, where he was in very real physical danger. Thankfully, the others left him alone. He could hear Bagman commentating, and the roar of dragons, but he tried his best to ignore both. He concentrated on remembering the order of the eight potions on his belt, four on either side, and running through the best spells he could use.

Under the circumstances, he believed his best bet was likely one of the two on his left, but though he’d practiced a bit he was still better at throwing with his right hand. Which would mean transferring his wand to his left hand long enough to grab and throw. It would be tricky, but hopefully not impossible.

He had no idea what the others’ scores were when he was finally called out of the tent to take his turn. But he supposed that was part of the challenge; he wasn’t to know what he had to beat. Fortunately, he and Hermione had worked hard to reinforce in his mind that all he had to do was survive the task. He didn’t actually care where he ended up in the scores. He felt that if he’d been left to himself, his innate sense of competition would probably have risen up by now, but his sister was determined to keep him focused. Winning wasn’t the goal.

Walking off the challenge field, that was the goal.

As soon as the bell sounded his start, he raised his wand arm. “Accio Firebolt!” he yelled. The Firebolt pelted at him from where Neville had been holding it. He quickly mounted it, checking to make sure that his water bottle was secured to his broom handle, and kicked off, just as the Horntail was coming over to see who was disturbing her territory. Harry easily spotted the Golden Egg in the nest and resolved to keep the Horntail away from the nest as much as possible. So Harry flew up, out of the dragon’s reach, and started flying in slow, lazy circles to tease the dragon, to try and get it to open its mouth so he could drop in one of his potions.

It took a few minutes of dodging bursts of flame before Harry caught on to the small window of time he could drop a potion in between the dragon opening her mouth and breathing fire. Finally, Harry dropped in the first shrinking solution that he’d carefully brewed just before the dragon started to breathe fire. Shocked, the Horntail closed her mouth and, with a pop, shrunk from 20 feet to about 5 feet. Instantly, Harry dove for the nest and grabbed the egg. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry’s brain finally started recognizing the sounds around him.

The crowd was roaring, but Bagman was shouting even over them. “LOOK AT THAT! LOOK AT THAT! THE YOUNGEST CHAMPION GETS HIS EGG THE QUICKEST. AND WITHOUT ANY INJURIES. HE MIGHT BE HEADED FOR FIRST PLACE, FOLKS! THIS IS ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS!”

Harry’s heart sank. That hadn’t been what he was aiming for. He had just wanted to survive. He glanced back at the dragon. The dragon keepers, including Charlie Weasley, were inspecting her. Charlie spotted Harry and went over. “Just to check,” Charlie started. “That was just a shrinking solution?”

Harry nodded. “I have a spare, if it helps.”

“We’ll let you know,” Charlie said. “We have the antidote for it, I just wanted to confirm. I’ve heard you’re rather clever at Potions.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a first year potion,” he admitted. “I spent more time practicing the summoning spell. But Hermione came up with the edible container; I promise, there’s no glass or anything that should hurt the dragon.”

Charlie smiled. “You’re good kids. Congrats; that was a clever solution.”

Harry sighed. “I just wanted to find the best way to live through it.”

“I understand. You did good, and I’m glad you’re not hurt at all.”

Harry gave Charlie a grateful smile and turned to wait for his scores. Hermione rushed for him, checking him over. “Hermione, it didn’t even get near me!” Harry objected, blushing. “Everyone’s watching.”

“Do you promise you’re not hurt?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I do,” Harry said. Hermione backed off and they waited for their scores. He received a couple tens, a couple nines and a three from Karkaroff, who apparently had it in for him.

Hermione gave a judgemental humph. “That means you’re tied with Krum,” she said with a small smile. He then headed towards the second tent, where the other champions waited.

“Harry!” Cedric greeted him when he entered the tent. The older boy looked him over, relieved to note Harry had no injuries. “How did it go?”

Harry submitted to a quick scan by one of the medi-witches and saw Melody in the background, handing a potion to the witch currently treating Krum. “It went better than I expected. I summoned my Firebolt and dodged the dragon until I could throw a shrinking potion down its throat.”

Fleur laughed, and Harry was momentarily distracted by how pretty it sounded. “Interesting decizion,” she commented. “You look well?”

“I’m fine,” Harry agreed, and the medi-witch nodded to confirm what he already knew.

Krum came over to them and looked at Hermione with an intrigued look in his eye. “This tent is for Champions,” he said in a deep, accented voice.

“She’s with me,” Harry said, bristling.

“Apologies,” Krum said. “I sometimes haff trouble with… fans.” He grimaced, and Harry and Hermione gestured that they weren’t insulted. Harry could sympathize, somewhat.

Cedric grinned. “I caught the tail end of yours,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of _flying_. Of all the things tools that I could used, that was the most obvious.”

“You flew?” Viktor queried.

Harry nodded. “I’m a fair flyer… so I figured I should play to my strengths. I’m better at defensive spells so I used other methods to get past the dragon.”

Cedric laughed. “Harry has a tendency to undersell himself. I’ve never seen a person more suited to being a seeker. He’s the youngest person allowed onto a House team in a century, and he flies like he was born on a broom. I don’t think he’s ever fallen off one.”

“Perhaps… we should go flying some time,” Viktor suggested. “All the champions?”

“I theenk it would be good for uz,” Fleur said lightly. “Though I do not… excel… on broomz.”

“You should,” Hermione encouraged them all, though her attention was on Harry. “It would be fun for you.”

Melody approached as the medi-witches finished packing up. “Hey, everyone. I can’t stay, but I’m glad you’re all relatively uninjured,” she said with a slightly tight smile. “I’m told we’ll be here for each Task. McGonagall insisted.”

“It’s good to see you, Melody,” Cedric greeted her.

“I’m glad you’re here, and them too,” Hermione said, going to give the older girl - young woman, really - a hug. “I’d hate for there to be an accident during a task that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t handle.”

Melody hugged back. “I think that’s the idea, yeah. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But stay safe and good luck to you all.” Cedric, Harry, and Hermione all exchanged a quick series of glances, confirming that they’d try to slip into the AA room once they were allowed to leave.

Once they were given instructions from Bagman - that the Golden egg was a clue for their next task, they were allowed to leave. While Fleur and Viktor retreated to their school’s housing on the grounds, Cedric, Hermione, and Harry retreated to the library while most students went to lunch.

Melody had been pacing when they entered. “I can’t stay long,” she said, wringing her hands. “I just… listen I don’t know what’s going on but something’s off about my father…”

“What?” Harry asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it,” Melody said. “It’s just a gut feeling, I guess. When he looked at me today… it almost looked like regret.”

“Like he realizes now that you’re out of his life that he made a mistake?” Cedric asked.

Melody shook her head. “My father hasn’t regretted a single decision he’s ever made in his life, including imprisoning your godfather without a trial, Harry. He refuses to believe that he was in the wrong. He’s the most stubborn…” she stopped herself, took a breath, then continued. “He doesn’t believe in regrets. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what and I don’t know why, but something’s wrong. Can you keep an eye on him for me?” Harry was rather surprised to see how concerned Melody was.

“You still care about him,” Hermione realized.

Melody smiled sheepishly. “It wasn’t all his fault. I mean, I’m not excusing it. And it was even less my fault, but after my brother… and then my mother died… something changed in him. The father I remember when I was really little was loving and caring and… a really good Dad. And I can’t help but hope that maybe he’s in there still… and if something’s really wrong… I want to help him.”

Harry considered Melody’s words. In all honesty, he’d barely ever given the Dursleys a second thought after he had been told a lifetime ago he’d never have to go near them again. That his Mum and Dad were going to take care of him. Feeling loved for the first time in his memory, he just stopped caring about them all together. He couldn’t understand why Melody was still drawn to taking care of her father, but maybe he wasn’t meant to. One thing he knew was that he was willing to help Melody however he could, even if he didn’t understand her reasons. He finally nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “Whatever we can do.”

Cedric nodded as well. “We promise, we’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks,” Melody said in a rush, checking her watch. “Bloody hell, I’ve got to go. I’m late. See you later, all three of you.”

And with that, she was gone. Cedric placed his egg on the table and Harry followed suit before sitting down.

“I’m not sure I know enough about Mr. Crouch to know if he’s behaving oddly,” Hermione said slowly. “But we can definitely send Melody updates on what we see.”

“We will,” Harry agreed. “But for the moment, we have these clues to figure out.”

“Give me half a moment to process seeing you going up against that dragon…” Hermione said a little faintly. “Though certain reactions from people when you shrunk it…”

“Ooo,” Cedric teased. “Do tell.”

“I actually think Lavender Brown actually cooed at the damn thing. A nesting mother dragon who could have killed you.”

“It probably looked worse than it was,” Harry shrugged. “Of course, after facing a basilisk more than four times its size at just shy of thirteen…”

“Don’t remind me,” Cedric and Hermione both said, shuddering. Eventually the rest of the AA trickled in slowly, congratulating both Cedric and Harry on their victories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations... you just made it through that marathon... word count: 7,300.
> 
> If you are so inclined, please hit the comment button below or leave us kudos.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the First Task, everyone gets distracted by the upcoming Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, go to you, our readers, for your reviews, kudos, and comments. You are the reason we share our crazy story ideas!
> 
> Please remember that our first story in this series is up for a Marauder Medal. If you still want to vote, you have until Monday - October 22nd! Go here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdGm5P_Ehq5Sjxdut6wJd71jZbh1EMQLREyDFhXlqhVfJ3VuA/viewform

They were always rather cute in canon

* * *

 

**Chapter 5**

As the AA sat around the table discussing the tournament thus far, Harry and Hermione very carefully packaged Harry’s unused potions. The edible containers were somewhat more fragile than the usual glass vials, since they could be punctured with teeth or any other sharp object, so they were diligent in padding and protecting them well for storage.

Harry doubted the same potions would be useful for the second task, but if for some reason they would come in handy at least he would have them to hand.

“So, what are the eggs for?” Theo finally asked.

“They’re supposed to contain a clue about the next task,” Cedric explained. “We haven’t opened them yet, though.”

“Before you do,” Luna spoke up before the others could encourage the opening of the golden eggs. “I met someone I think might need… us.” Luna definitely had everyone’s attention, and her eyes are startlingly clear at the moment, lacking her usual dreaminess. “She’s a first year named Orla; like many of us she seems fine outwardly, but she cringes away when older students crowd her. Like Neville used to.”

“See if you can get her to talk to you, Luna, at least a little,” Hermione said. “If she’s interested, bring her to our next meeting.”

Luna nodded. “I think I can do that.”

“She’s welcome, of course,” Draco said in a low voice. “Hopefully we can help her before things get any worse. I’ll start watching the Slytherin firsties a little better. We didn’t really notice anyone last year, but the tournament this year has been a big distraction.”

“Last year’s class of firsties was smaller than usual,” Luna noted.

“Probably because summer was full of news about Sirius,” Hermione said. “People were afraid; it’s possible they decided to send their children to one of the other schools, further away.”

“Or alternatively, using tutors,” Theo added.

Hermione looked a little perplexed at the idea of many families with private tutors, but shrugged it off. Theo would know better than she would about some of these things. “In either case, I expect with that media circus finished, more families were willing to send their children this year than last. Especially if word got out about the Tournament.”

“The Ministry would’ve had to have been working on it over the summer, which means the well connected families would have heard,” Draco agreed. “Even if they didn’t tell the students ahead of time.”

The next morning, the Daily Prophet came out with an article on the first task. Rita Skeeter skimmed over Viktor’s, Fleur’s, and Cedric’s performances and went into painstaking detail Harry’s performance. In addition, Rita also included what could generously be described as ‘rumor,’ primarily that Harry and Hermione were in a romantic relationship, mentioning how Hermione had gone into the Champion’s tent after Harry competed and interviewing several people who said that Harry and Hermione had always been joined at the hip. Fleur looked at the pair of them incredulously after reading the article. Harry actually gagged at the thought when he read that. 

“Not that I don’t think Hermione’s great,” he explained to the Beauxbatons students. “Any bloke’d be really lucky to date her. But Hermione’s basically my sister.” Several students looked rather disgusted at the thought of the media pairing a person up with their sibling.

“I understand,” Fleur nodded. “It is… difficult for me to find boys who want to spend time with me because of who I am, rather than how I look. I can guess you have the same problem because of your fame. People see you being friends with a girl and assume the wrong thing.”

“I do tend to hang around the same people,” Harry hedged. “But most people here have gotten used to the fact that I’m just a normal kid… who regularly has their life threatened.”

“Are you at least having fun with the language group?” Hermione asked Fleur curiously. “I think we’ve managed to shrink the group down to those who are genuinely interested in improving their language skills, given that we only speak English in the last rotation.”

It had been Neville’s suggestion to relegate English to the last rotation, after French and Bulgarian, so the people who were only there to say they were social with the visiting students mostly got frustrated and left before anyone started speaking a language they understood. Krum hadn’t yet decided to attend, though Hermione had spoken to one or two of the other Durmstrang students who explained that he, too, was leery of hangers-on and fame-seekers and thus hesitant to be more openly social. Hermione understood and asked them to pass along their welcome, should he ever decide to join the group.

“I am, oui,” Fleur replied with a smile. “It is helping me,” she added; though she still had an accent in English, it was becoming less pronounced. “I think I am making some friends.”

“I think we all are,” Harry agreed heartily.

“I’m a bit sad that you all are going home at the end of the year,” Neville said with a nervous smile to Fleur. “It’s been fun, learning different languages.”

Fleur smiled back at Neville. The first time Neville had said anything at all to Fleur, he’d gone pale and started stammering. Fleur had subsequently dismissed him as being like every other boy. It wasn’t until Hermione explained Neville was a little awkward and shy, and he stammered with everyone at first, that she gave him a second chance. They ended up having a lot in common. Both liked Herbology and were taking Care of Magical Creatures. Neville proudly showed Fleur a section of the greenhouses Professor Sprout had given him so that he could grow magical plants on his own.

Fleur loaned him a book about magical plants unique to France, while Neville loaned her one about English plants. Neville nearly had Fleur’s book memorized.

“It has been interesting to visit, and I hope the rest of the year continues as well as it has begun,” Guillame joined the conversation. “It would be good if the tournament’s purpose is kept and we are able to keep in touch after this year is finished.”

“I love writing letters,” Hermione enthused. “I’ll definitely write if you’ll write back.”

“Is everyone staying for the holidays?” Harry asked curiously. 

Guillame nodded. “Madame Maxime told us that we ‘ad to stay,” he explained. “I believe all students from Durmstrang stay at their school for ‘olidays.”

“Wow,” Hermione said slowly. “That must be hard, to always be away from your family.” Harry squeezed her hand under the table, knowing that both of them were missing their parents.

“It is,” Fleur confirmed. “But we get a longer summer ‘oliday, because we take two weeks in the winter but only one in the spring. So our spring term typically ends a week or two earlier than here.”

“Gotta say, I’m a bit envious,” Hermione said. 

“Hermione, say she wants time off school?” Fred teased. “Never!”

“I could use the extra time to catch up on my recreational reading,” Hermione argued, blushing. “I have a whole shelf of books I haven’t had a chance to even start yet.”

The entire section of the Gryffindor table burst out laughing. Hermione blushed a little deeper, but Fleur pulled her into a comforting hug, despite still chuckling. “It is not a bad t’ing, the love of books. But ‘olidays are also for fun.”

“Reading is fun,” Hermione protested quietly, but only Fleur and Harry heard her over the laughter.

When the clamor died down, Guillame gave Hermione a brilliant smile. “It is often said that youth is wasted on the young, and that we regret far more the things we never did than the things we chose to do. Truly, enjoy your books but also do not forget there is a whole world to explore as well,” he said sagely, as if he were more than three years her senior.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “I do enjoy traveling with my family in the summers, it’s true.” She wondered if perhaps this was one lesson Guillame had also had to learn, because he seemed sympathetic despite the mild lecture.

“‘Arry, ‘ave you ‘ad any luck with your clue?” Fleur murmured in a low tone.

“I’ve started narrowing it down,” Harry said. He’d opened the egg to hear an unearthly screaming that curled the hair of everyone in the room, and Cedric’s had done the same thing. He was planning to research various species that made sounds like that and was fairly sure that it was related to the Hogwarts lake. He had gotten permission from McGonagall to use the prefect’s lounge so that he could get privacy and was planning on doing so during Christmas break. 

“You’’ll let me know?” Fleur asked. “If you need ‘elp?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah… thank you. I really do appreciate you guys putting competition aside and making sure I don’t die.”

Fleur nodded and smiled as she lightly shoved him. “Of course,” she said. “You did not ask for this, and I would feel myself no better than those who try to ‘urt you if I did nothing when I could have given aid.”

Harry smiled. “No matter who might try to say you’re just a pretty face, Fleur, never believe them. You’re a good person, and I’m glad we’re friends.”

Fleur blushed lightly and smiled. “Thank you, ‘Arry.”

Breakfast wrapped up without further drama and the general consensus was that everyone thought the Champions should take the morning off and an impromptu meeting of the language group was arranged. Harry smiled when he saw Viktor enter, looking duck-footed, hunched, and awkward as usual. Viktor was unexpected, but welcome. 

“Viktor,” Harry called, coming over. Viktor looked a little surprised.

“Harry,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “You haff…” he muttered momentarily in Bulgarian. “I did not expect you here. I heard this vas to learn English.”

“Well, some of us want to learn French or Bulgarian,” Harry explained. “This group is just a group where we can teach each other.”

“Da, I understand,” Viktor said. 

Hermione came up behind Harry. “Viktor, this is Hermione,” Harry introduced. 

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Hermione said warmly.

“Would you like my autograph?” Viktor asked, looking slightly exasperated.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Why would I want that?” she asked. “I’m not interested in Quidditch.” Viktor froze. Hermione blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Vhat are you interested in?” Viktor asked slowly.

“I like to read,” Hermione said. “And I like learning languages. My favorite subjects are Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”

Viktor lit up brighter than Harry had ever seen him. “I loff Ancient Runes,” he exclaimed. “Haff you seen the latest article…”

“On the new tomb they found in Egypt? Yes; what did you think about the new interpretations?” Hermione asked, nodding excitedly. Harry smiled and slowly backed away, allowing the pair of them to talk. Harry could, technically, add to the conversation, but as unofficial ‘host,’ he tried to facilitate conversations first. 

While speaking with one of the Beauxbatons girls an hour later, Harry watched Hermione and Viktor, still speaking just as animatedly. Viktor had a look on his face that hinted that his interest in Hermione maybe wasn’t exactly platonic. It made Harry smile. It was nice to watch someone look at Hermione like she was a girl. He knew that it hurt her a little that people didn’t look at her like that, especially since girls like Lavender practically demanded attention.

Hermione wound up snagging Daniel, one of the Durmstrang students who was actually from England and thus fluently bilingual, to help her and Viktor translate as their discussion got more technical. She was having far too much fun with the conversation to allow something like limited vocabulary to hamper her, and Daniel had been one of the best instructors for the Hogwarts students when it came to learning Bulgarian with the group.

Fortunately, Hermione also knew that Daniel enjoyed Ancient Runes so he quickly became part of the conversation as well, and Hermione listened very carefully when he had to repeat himself in both languages. The trio were shot amused glances and a few smiles from the majority of the group when they tuned out the French portion of the lesson. 

A few of the Slytherin students glared balefully at Hermione as she held Viktor’s attention over the majority of the session, but since the group lesson was a firmly enforced House-neutral zone, they couldn’t do much more than glare for the moment.

Daniel eventually excused himself, returning to the group to take his turn at helping with Bulgarian lessons, leaving Hermione and Viktor alone. Without their translator, they had to return to more general topics of discussion.

“I hear others… talk,” Viktor admitted to her in a low tone. “About you. Say you alvays vith Harry. I see same, in Library. Some t’ink you date, others say like… like siblings. Did not know Harry had a sister.”

Hermione shrugged slightly. “We weren’t born to the same parents or anything,” she answered quietly, choosing her words with care. She didn’t want to lie to Viktor, but she wasn’t yet sure if she could trust him enough to share their secrets. “Neither of us has siblings by birth. Harry is the brother I chose; I love him very much as my brother and he will always be my brother, no matter what anyone else thinks. Does that make sense?”

Viktor considered her words, then nodded. “Is like… oath of brotherhood, yes? Swear to always be family, loyal to each other.”

Hermione nodded quickly. “Very similar, yes.”

Viktor smiled. “I am glad. Family is important, and those vith none should always haff those to find. Vorld knows Harry Potter lost parents; it is good he is not alone.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“Vould you like study together sometime?” Viktor blurted, looking suddenly shy. “Not… not many girls see… see the person before celebrity. You are… different. I vould like to know better.”

Hermione blushed, but she nodded. “I’d like that, Viktor.”

Viktor smiled in response, brightening much like he had earlier. “If ve get along… perhaps vould like to accompany me to Yule Ball?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, her expression registering total shock. Viktor wanted to take  _ her _ to the Yule Ball? But they’d only just met. She didn’t even have the words for how to respond, and she stared at him silently for long moments until she heard him mutter to himself in Bulgarian, something about not being sure he used the right words. “Me? You want to go to the Ball with  _ me?” _

“Yes?” he responded, surprised by her confusion. She’d managed to close her mouth after speaking, but her eyes were still wide and shocked.

“There are much prettier girls… girls who actually date…” she stammered out, feeling foolish. But Viktor shook his head. “You could have any of them.”

“You are beautiful,” he informed her as if it were simply a fact that everyone knew. “Quick mind, strong heart. I see you in Library, alvays help others. You follow brother through Tournament, take care of him. Not like Qvidditch,” he added teasingly, startling a laugh out of her. “Not impressed by Qvidditch player, but discuss Runes all morning if you could. So many others… they see the Player but not the Scholar. They assume I do not know. You took the time to see vhat so many do not.”

“I…” Hermione was at a loss for words, blushing brightly. “I would like to go to the Ball with you, Viktor,” she managed to answer in a very quiet voice so as not to be overheard. “Even if our study time determines we’re better as friends, I would still be pleased to go with you.” She managed a smile. “If only to protect you from vapid girls who only see fame and fortune.”

Viktor took her hand and bowed over it in thanks. “I vould be honored, in either case. Ve arrange details nearer to holiday?”

“Sure,” Hermione agreed. Wow. Just wait until she told her friends - her real friends, of course - about what had just happened!

By dinner, the whole school knew that Hermione had been asked to the Ball by Krum. Most of the girls were glaring at Hermione enviously while Hermione ate. Hermione ignored them, her friends having surrounded her to prevent anyone from doing anything unreasonable or underhanded. It hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice that Ron was glaring at Hermione too.  “Really,” Hermione exclaimed in exasperation as she heard two girls at the Ravenclaw table burst into tears. “He’s just a person.”

“You forget that you’re used to fame,” Fleur advised the younger girl. “Most girls see it as an opportunity to get a little more attention from their friends. You’ve been best friends with Harry for years, so you’re used to the attention and aren’t seeking it.”

“Have you gotten asked yet?” Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded. “I ‘ave. But I turned them all down so far.” Fleur sighed. “If they are not already friends and cannot ask the question without stuttering over their words, I am not interested. I would prefer no stuttering, but for a friend I would forgive it. So far the only boys who ‘ave asked me ask me because I am pretty.” She frowned slightly, and it occurred to Harry that it must be hard to constantly be judged based on your looks. 

“Have you met any of the Hufflepuffs your age?” Harry suggested. “They’re usually good friends to have and you’d have a good time, just to go with a friend.”

“I ‘ave, yes,” Fleur confirmed. “Andrew McNeil and Kerry Walsh are both seventh years.” She pointed out a boy and a girl who were sitting with a crowd of people. “They’re very both... nice.”

“Would you want to go to the dance with Andrew if he asked you?” Katie asked curiously. Fleur nodded very slightly. “Leave us to it then,” Katie continued. “If he likes being friends with you, Andrew might not know that you want to be asked.”

“I don’t even know who to ask,” Harry muttered.

“Why?” Katie asked.

“The Champions are supposed to open the dance,” Fleur began, but Katie shook her head.

“No, we figured on that,” Katie stated. “But Harry, you also have plenty of friends. Surely you can think of someone you’d like to go with?”

Harry just shrugged. “I don’t exactly have a girlfriend. I’m a bit too young for it, maybe… and I don’t want anyone to sacrifice going with someone they might have feelings for out of obligation because I need a date.”

“Don’t worry Harry,” Fred said grinning. “We’ll go with you.”

“We’ll be the best dates you’ve ever had,” George agreed.

As usual with the twins, they managed to make Harry smile and come out of his funk a bit. “How modern,” Harry chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think that’s what they had in mind.”

“Have you considered the fact that if you asked your friends if we were interested in anyone and were hoping to be invited by someone else that we’d be honest with you?” Alicia posed. Harry blinked, clearly not having considered that option. “Honestly, Harry,” Alicia laughed. “We’re not all hung up on your fame. Your friends will get it. I’m hoping that George will get a hint one of these and ask me, for instance.”

George suddenly froze, blinking at Alicia.

“You want to go to the Ball with me?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, you half-wit!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “If you ask me properly.”

“Alicia?” George asked, getting out of his seat.

“What?”

George bowed formally, following pureblood traditions. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” he asked, no humor in his voice for the first time in Harry’s memory.

Alicia smiled slightly. “All right then,” she agreed.

Hermione smiled beatifically. “I’m so happy for you,” she murmured to Alicia as George sat back down.

“Thanks,” Alicia replied, returning Hermione’s smile.

“That reminds me, though,” Hermione said, her smile fading a bit. “Can we review the dance lessons you gave us a few years ago, please? I’m… a little nervous about this whole opening dance thing.”

“Of course,” Angelina spoke up as Alicia nodded readily. “We know you’ll make Gryffindor proud already, but we’re more than happy to review if it will give your confidence a boost.”

“Thank you.” Hermione was relieved. She could do anything with her friends behind her, but confirmation never hurt. And preparation was always where she excelled, so it made her feel better to know she would be as prepared as possible for whatever might happen.

Harry looked up and down the table, remembering everything he’d been told. He wanted to pick someone he was interested in, someone who saw Harry and not the fame, and someone who he saw potential for more. The girls on the Quidditch team definitely saw him, though Angelina was nearly three years older than him, and Harry had learned from pureblood lessons such a thing wasn’t ‘done’. 

With Alicia going to the dance with George, that left Katie, but there was also Luna. Harry realized that he didn’t really have that many friends who were younger than him. Hopefully recruiting more people for the AA would help with that. But for now, Harry knew he should ask someone in the next couple of days to prevent too many people from trying to ask him. Internally nodding to himself he decided that he’d ask Katie the next chance he got when they each had a moment to talk alone.

After dinner, Harry decided he needed a break from everything. The tournament, the ball, classes and homework… everything. “I’m going for a walk before we go back to the Tower,” Harry told his friends.

Hermione shot a glance at her brother, but nodded when he shook his head. He wanted some time alone, or if he wanted company it wasn’t hers. Since she was planning private study time with Viktor, she couldn’t exactly blame him.

Harry took his Firebolt with him and kicked off hard as soon as he left the castle, his worries stripping off him as if the speed of the broom had torn them away. He flew high up into the air, casting a warming charm on his robes to keep himself from freezing. He flew around, at one point finding his balance enough that he could lay flat on his broom and just float, watching the stars. Balance or no, he conjured a tether, just in case. He vaguely wondered what people in airplanes saw when they looked down at Hogwarts. How far up did the magic extend?

Harry shifted enough to grab his beverage bottle from its holder and sipped the hot chocolate the elves had been nice enough to supply him with while his eyes traced the constellations above him. It was nice to be entirely alone, but still be comfortable and enjoy his drink. He could definitely get used to feeling this way.

“Harry?” came a voice. Harry sat up and saw Viktor on his own Firebolt. “Vhat are you doing up here?” he asked

“Just flying,” Harry said with a soft smile. “People around here joke that they think I was born on a broomstick. I’ve never needed a flying lesson and it’s… settling… to be up here.”

“You never had a lesson?” Viktor asked in slight surprise.

“My first flying lesson, a student broke his wrist five minutes in and while the instructor and the student were gone, another student stole the my friend’s remembrall,” Harry said, trying his best to keep the details vague. Within the privacy of the AA, the story was one that he, Neville, and Draco all laughed at, but the rest of the students weren’t aware of that fact. “He went up to the roof and threw it. I caught it with inches to spare.”

Viktor rifled in the pocket of his robe and pulled out… it looked like a snitch, except it was bright blue. “This is a practice snitch. It comes when called, so it vill not get lost. Vould you like to try going up against me?” Harry grinned broadly.

Harry and Viktor fought for the snitch for the next several hours, until just before curfew. “You are better seeker than I anticipated, Harry,” Viktor acknowledged as they landed for the final time. Harry took a long drink from his bottle; Seeking could be thirsty work. “Haff you considered playing professionally?”

“Maybe for a couple years,” Harry acknowledged. “After we deal with whatever keeps coming for me.”

Viktor nodded solemnly. “You could become a great seeker,” he said. “If you vere villing to put the vork in.”

Harry blushed. “I don’t really know… I mean, if I’m being honest, I’m the best seeker here at Hogwarts. I’ve never lost a game I’ve played in. My old team captain always just told me to do my thing, never gave me any instructions. I’m not really sure how to improve.”

Viktor looked rather shocked at the revelation. “This summer, after the tournament, I could help you,” he offered.

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?” he asked. 

“Vell, I mean that I could introduce you to some people. You may hate me for vhat they make you do.”

Harry laughed. “I doubt that. I’d really appreciate it.” He suddenly grew serious. “And Viktor… just so you know, I can tell you really like Hermione, and she likes you too… but she’s basically my sister. If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you, International Quidditch star or no.”

Viktor nodded. “Da,” he acknowledged. “Can I ask. What is a bicycle water bottle doing on your broomstick?”

“Some friends and I, we converted them,” Harry explained, impressed that Viktor knew the muggle equivalent. “They magically resize to different broomstick handles and the water bottle is charmed to keep your beverage hot or cold. So you can have a cuppa during early morning Quidditch practices without having to stop practice. I can get one for you, if you promise to mention us to your team mates. And if you really want to mention it during an interview, we wouldn’t be mad.” Harry winked. “No pressure though. I hate reporters.”

Viktor looked impressed. “It is a good idea. I vill certainly mention it to my team. Good night, Harry Potter.”

Harry made it up to the tower with minutes to spare. Hermione was waiting for him. “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded. “I just… needed to feel normal for one night, so I went flying. Viktor turned up, and we practiced seeking.”

“You look a lot more relaxed than you did at dinner,” Hermione acknowledged.

Harry shrugged. “I just… there’s been a lot going on. Flying clears my head.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “I’ll adjust your schedule so you can get a couple hours of flying in a week. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“It’s all right,” Harry answered, shaking his head. “I didn’t think to ask you about it, either.”

A week later, during the Hogsmeade trip, Harry went with shopping with Hermione and the Gryffindor chasers. He was less than eager to go, but Hermione didn’t like the dress robes she’d brought and the older girls wanted a male opinion. Fred, who’d been giving Hermione rather furtive glances all week, walked down with them, using the excuse that he wanted to check in with the owner of Gambol and Japes to confirm all the paperwork was signed so that the twins could intern next year. He asked Hermione to hang back a bit, so they slowed down while Angelina, Katie, and Alicia went on ahead. 

“I have to confess... “ Fred said, going slightly pink at the ears. “I mean… I really like you, Hermione. You’re not like most girls at Hogwarts. You’re not  _ vapid _ . I was planning on asking you to accompany me to the Ball that night at dinner. I’m not mad, or anything. I’m just sorry that Krum beat me to it,” Fred admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. “I hope… maybe you wouldn’t mind saving me a dance?”

Hermione listened, blushing beet-red, but managed to nod. “I think I can do that. I… I didn’t know, Fred.” Hermione looked down. “I’m not the kind of girl people usually ask out to something like this. I figured… I figured Viktor would be the only one who would ask. He’s sweet, and I do enjoy spending time with him. But… it’s new, you know?”

“They’re fools not to see you, Hermione,” Fred said quietly. “I hope you don’t change too much for the ball… if you feel pressured to change because of him, he isn't worthy of you. I like you, bushy hair and all."

Harry smiled as Fred then sped up, giving Harry and Hermione privacy while he caught up with the others. “You okay?” Harry asked her quietly.

Hermione nodded. “I’m… I don’t know what to think. I guess I always thought that no one would ever see me and I’d have to settle for someone who didn’t, but would tolerate me. Maybe a friend.”

“I’m sorry you felt like that,” Harry said sympathetically. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t think I was really aware of it until boys started paying attention to the girls in our class, but mostly not me. Though… Viktor is eighteen. And Fred’s almost seventeen.”

Harry chuckled. “You often seem more than just a year older than most of our classmates to me, Hermione. Maybe you need an older guy in order to really be appreciated.”

“Maybe.” Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. I was just… totally shocked when Viktor asked. And now Fred… I’m not sure I know exactly what I’m feeling right now.”

“Just keep in mind that it’s just a dance and not a marriage proposal,” Harry said. “It’s supposed to be  _ fun _ .” Harry had gotten jet black dress robes the summer before, as it had been on his school list. Madame Malkin had practically begged him to take the bottle green ones that matched his eyes, but Harry strongly declined and she let up. “Fred’s right though. You shouldn’t spend too much time on your hair. It looks fine the way it is. You could always put it in a braid or a bun. Maybe Mum could send you some muggle hair care products that she uses? Or you could get one of the older girls to cut it?”

Hermione shook her head. “I like my hair the way it is, thank you,” she said, but she was now smiling. “I’ll think about it. Do you know what you’re going to do with your hair? It’s almost as bad as mine.”

It was Harry’s turn to shrug. “I wasn’t going to do anything special with it,” he admitted. “It’s part of me, like yours is for you. If I’m going with a friend, then she’ll just have to deal with regular old Harry. Even if we’ll be dressed up a bit.”

“You know you like Katie,” Hermione teased with a smile. “Just make sure you comb it a bit right after you wash it like Mum showed you last summer.”

Harry gave a start. “What?”

“Harry, you’ve been getting closer to her ever since second year,” Hermione explained. “After she helped us during that Basilisk attack. And you certainly don’t look at her like you’re looking at your sister.” She grinned. “I would know.”

They continued to banter the rest of the trip. Hermione, encouraged by Harry and the girls, declined to purchase the heavy duty hair products, especially when the witch showed her a spell to deal with frizz, which neatened Hermione’s curls considerably. Harry dutifully held everyone’s purchases as they went from shop to shop. Katie hung back with them at one point. “You’ve got him well-trained,” she remarked quietly to Hermione.

“It’s all those trips to the bookstore,” Hermione said. “That and Dad has always been a bit insistent that men should hold a woman’s things if she asks him to.”

“I take payment in biscuits,” Harry snarked good-naturedly.

“What about sweets?” Katie shot back in a playful tone. “I could take you over to Honeydukes as a thank you.”

“As you wish,” Harry said without thinking. Katie, thankfully, didn’t get the reference, but Hermione did. Harry was just glad that his sister only shot him a smirk and left him alone with Katie, catching up with Alicia and trying to talk the older girls into detouring to Tomes and Scrolls for a brief stop. Harry did, secretly, really like Katie, and knew it could potentially develop into something deeper, but he didn’t want anyone knowing about it just yet.

They were in the back corner of Honeydukes, picking out chocolate, when Harry realized they were really  _ alone _ despite the bustle of the store. He decided he’d better gather up his Gryffindor courage and turned to Katie with a hesitant smile. “Um, Katie?”

Katie turned to face Harry, a curious expression lighting her eyes. “Yes, Harry?”

“Would you… erm… Would you like to… to go to the Ball with me?” he finally managed to ask the question, albeit a little shyly.

Katie’s eyes went wide. “Really? You… you want to go to the ball? With  _ me _ ?” she asked, clearly stunned.

“Yes, really. With you,” Harry answered quickly, nodding. “If… if  _ you _ want to go with  _ me _ ?”

Katie smiled as the realization really sunk in. “I’d love to, Harry. Thank you.”

“Thank you, too,” Harry replied. He caught Katie’s hand and kissed her knuckles lightly, making her blush just a bit.

When the group was finished shopping, they all gathered at the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Viktor, Daniel and a few of the other Durmstrang students joined them as well. Viktor offered to escort Hermione back to the castle, and Harry wordlessly held out his hand for the last of her bags.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said as she passed them over. “I’ll see you in a bit!”

Though Hermione and Viktor had left first, the group made it back to Gryffindor Tower before she did. The twins catcalled her teasingly when she stepped through the portrait, and Hermione blushed. Despite feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Hermione was quietly happy to have friends in her House who cared enough to tease.

All in all, it had been a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good day, indeed!
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Let us know what you think! One or both of us will respond to comments. We love to discuss people's thoughts and reactions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas hols

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to our dedicated readers, as always. Your comments and insights are a delight to us each and every time. Thanks, also, to everyone who voted for us in the Marauder Medals. We won't find out who won until the end of the month, but your support means a great deal to us.

**Chapter 6**

It was very strange to be staying at school over Christmas. Hermione had never experienced it. Harry had stayed that first year, but he tried not to think about that Christmas too much. At the time, he’d thought it was the best Christmas of his life, but it paled in comparison to Christmas with family. Many of the younger years had gone home; the first through third year students weren’t invited to the Ball, but some of the third years had stayed because they’d been asked by fourth years. But with their guests still in residence it felt like just as many people sat down at each meal as ever. 

There were dance reviews for those who never learned or forgot how to dance. Harry was extremely glad these weren’t his first lessons in dance, or he’d have made a fool out of himself at first. But as a reminder, everything went smoothly for him. He began to feel more confident in his ability to open the Ball without making a fool of himself.

He was a bit nervous about the Ball, but the team planned to hang out together during the dance, which helped Harry relax a bit. Ron was in a bad mood approaching the dance, causing Parvati Patil to snap at him one day to get over his crush on Hermione. Ron had gone scarlet and Hermione had barely paused before continuing her Transfiguration homework. 

Fleur Delacour was asked out by Peter Jones, a Gryffindor seventh year; Andrew McNeil ended up feeling rather guilty and admitted he had already asked Kerry, after he got into a heated debate with her over the effectiveness of having dragons guard Gringotts vaults. Peter was firm in his desire to ask Fleur as ‘just friends’ as Peter’s girlfriend, Cho Chang, had just broken up with him so she could go with Cedric Diggory. Cedric actually felt a little bad for asking her when he heard the news; he hadn’t realized Cho had a boyfriend when he asked her to the dance. That she’d dumped Peter so quickly just because he asked her to the dance made Cedric wonder just how committed Cho would be to any relationship.

It occurred to Harry that he’d been completely oblivious to normal school drama as he dealt with bigger issues than most people his age dealt with. He couldn’t help but feel a bit envious, just for a moment. Harry vaguely wondered if he needed to get Katie flowers, the way that his Dad sometimes got his Mum flowers.

During his down time, Harry worked on the egg and kept up practice of his animagus form. Harry kept odd hours due to this, which is why he was surprised to find, coming back late to the Tower and intending on going straight up to bed, a first year crying. 

“Hey,” Harry said softly. He was struck suddenly by how many nights he’d lay awake, crying, especially after he mastered the silencing spell, even after he’d been adopted. The first year in question, quickly inhaled in shock, looking at him wide-eyed and fearful. “It’s okay,” Harry said, trying to mimic the way his Dad spoke after to him when he’d first came to the Grangers. “I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

The young boy blushed hard. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “It’s just a stupid dream.”

Harry froze for just a second, then managed to say, “I get those sometimes.”

“I doubt it,” the kid said.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry said, ignoring the kid’s last sentence. 

“Nigel,” the kid said, somewhat grudgingly. “Look, no offense, but I’m not lookin’ for advice from someone with the perfect life like you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, frowning.

“You’re popular and smart and… and… everyone loves you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say  _ everyone _ ,” Harry said easily. “My aunt and uncle and cousin certainly don’t.” Nigel stared some more, seemingly unable to respond. “Can I ask you a question?” Harry attempted to prompt the younger boy. But instead of verbally answering, Nigel slowly nodded, still stunned by what Harry was saying. “Did you have a nightmare about what Christmases are like at home?” 

Nigel stared for a long moment then averted his gaze and blushed. “How’d you know?” Nigel asked sullenly.

“Because I have that same nightmare, this time of year,” Harry said softly, very quietly casting a privacy charm. It was true. Even now that he’d found good and stable family, he still had nightmares about his relatives, and Aunt Marge and Ripper. One particularly nasty nightmare was about the Christmas he was six. He’d dared to ask if he’d gotten any presents because he was supposed to write a three sentence essay about a gift, violating the house rule that he wasn’t allowed to ask questions as well as the unspoken rule that he wasn’t allowed to ‘steal’ any limelight away from Dudley. Harry had nursed a sprained wrist while making up that he’d gotten a kite and that he couldn’t wait for spring so he could fly it. 

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper. Nigel nodded. “Not many people know this, but my relatives really hate me. They never let me have Christmas dinner, but I was always the one who cooked it.”

Nigel stared at him, wide-eyed. “But… but you’re  _ Harry Potter! _ ”

“I know,” Harry answered calmly. “But while most people think I grew up with wizards and had an easy life… they were wrong. They didn’t know, or they don’t want to believe the truth. But I swear, I’m being completely honest.”

“How did you…?” Nigel started, then his expression shuttered and he cut himself off.

“I have a very special friend,” Harry explained quietly. “She helped get me away from my family, and while we can’t do the same thing for everyone… we have a group of people in similar situations that we meet with. We can talk about what happened to us, and help each other handle the memories and the nightmares.” He studied Nigel for a long, quiet moment. “Do you think you’d like to come meet them? They’ll be happy to be your friends, too. Kids like us, who’ve been through it… we’ve got to stick together.”

“Um… well… maybe?” Nigel said hesitantly.

“Think about it,” Harry suggested. “If you decide you want to, come tell me. And even if you don’t, if you just need someone to listen to you… come find me, yeah? I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. Now, would you like some hot cocoa before bed?”

Nigel lit up. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. 

A house elf, knowing when they were needed, appeared with a tray of cocoa and biscuits. “Sirs be wanting a late night snack?” the elf asked. Harry recognized the elf as one who frequently cleaned the common room, named Fritbee. House elves were rarely seen in the common room, as they derived the most pleasure from the appearance that the housekeeping at Hogwarts was effortless, but Harry had been up at odd enough hours that he’d seen them and introduced himself. All house elves were also able to appear when they were most needed.

“Yes, thank you Fritbee. You always know exactly what I need when I need it,” Harry praised. 

Fritbee positively beamed. “Would sirs be needing anything else?”

“Not right now, I don’t think, but thank you,” Harry said.

The hot cocoa calmed Nigel down some, and soon they were both ready for bed. “Harry?” Nigel said softly before entering his dorm. Harry paused, looking at Nigel expectantly. “Thanks.” Harry nodded, then went on to his own dorm and right to sleep.

In the morning, Harry quietly spoke to Hermione and Neville about his encounter with Nigel the night before. He didn’t share many details, but the others agreed to keep an eye on the first year regardless. They didn’t have much to go on, but the AA group had been, in some cases, assembled on less. And if there was one thing they all agreed upon, it was that everyone deserved help.

The AA gatherings during holidays were typically less formal, as Harry and Hermione learned that year, partly because usually half the group had gone home. Such was not the case this year, though, as even some students too young to attend had used the Tournament and the Yule Ball as an excuse to stay at the school. The older students definitely did so, which meant everyone was in attendance the first Friday of the holiday.

Still, the informal atmosphere made for an easy introduction of Orla Quirke of Ravenclaw, Malcom Baddock of Slytherin and Nigel Wolpert of Gryffindor. None of the first years said anything much aside from introductions; they mostly listened to the discussion and were quietly shocked by the casual friendship between such a mixed group of older students. Especially by the obviously close friendship that Harry and Draco had, whose bitter rivalry was rather infamous at Hogwarts.

Before the group dispersed, Luna took their newest attendees aside. “I’m sure this has all been very surprising,” she said to them all. “We are a very mixed group, and some of us are commonly thought to be rivals or even enemies. It is safer for most of us to continue those appearances, so we do ask you to please keep anything you’ve seen here today to yourselves.” 

She paused and waited for nods and murmurs of acceptance. “Thank you. I promise you, no matter what your home circumstances may be - you are safe here with us. We will all provide you with a shoulder to cry on or someone to listen if you need to talk. Hermione is wonderful at finding solutions if there are problems we haven’t encountered yet, but Muggles have made more studies of behavior than Wizards have. I know many people think she’s frightening because she’s so smart, but she’s also very caring. We will all help to care for you and to resolve your problems. Even if it takes time for you to trust us with them.”

“Why would Miss Granger want to help us?” Orla asked in a subdued tone. “At least Nigel is of her House.”

“We do not let House divide us here,” Luna explained very gently. “We are all students who have had difficult families and home lives that are less than perfect. In this group, we help each other to overcome those challenges so we can become better people. Hermione is our example in some ways. Her family is a good one and her childhood was happy, but she hates to see other people suffer from situations they cannot help. So she helps us to help ourselves. Does that make sense?”

The firsties looked thoughtful, then slowly nodded. “She listens to everyone so closely,” Malcolm observed. “And I don’t think she forgets after.”

“If the whole wizarding world can be wrong about how Harry Potter grew up, I don’t see any reason why their view of Miss Granger can’t also be wrong,” Nigel mused. He and Malcolm exchanged a glance, as if unfamiliar with the concept of agreeing on something. Luna just smiled.

“You can find any of us individually if you feel more comfortable,” Luna followed up, “or you can talk to the group; we’re here every Friday afternoon, between classes and dinner.”

“Can we think about it?” Malcolm asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Luna agreed. “If we’re not in this room, one of us is usually studying in the library nearby. If you come here, someone will see you and follow. You’re always welcome.”

“What if… what if we know about… about others with mean families?” Orla asked.

“Bring them to one of us first, and we’ll talk to them,” Luna answered. “If we think they would benefit from the group, we will invite them.”

“Okay,” Orla answered.

“One more thing. Professor Snape is a safe person for Slytherins to talk to, if they’re worried about the mixed group,” Luna said. “Most of the teachers don’t know about us, but Professors Snape and McGonagall do. You can always go to one of them and be safe, okay?”

The firsties nodded and Luna gave them a dreamy smile before letting them leave.

“I think that… I think that went okay,” Hermione said, exhaling and relaxing a bit. “Does anyone have anything to add before we conclude, anything they might not have wanted discussed in front of our new members?”

“I’m taking Astoria Greengrass to the Yule Ball, even though I’d much rather take someone else,” Draco revealed. “Of course, I might actually kill my father if he ever knew I wanted to take a muggle-born to the ball.”

“Really? Who?” everyone asked.

“Her name’s Sue Li,” Draco said. “She’s a Ravenclaw in our year. She’s pretty and nice and she’s not closed-minded like some people are about Slytherins.”

“Maybe you should talk to her, mate,” Theo suggested. “Yeah, we all know we’re not free to make gestures like that right now… but maybe when that’s not an issue anymore, you could take her out somewhere.”

Adella shook her head. “I don’t think it would go over well that way. You think she’s good enough, but your father doesn’t and right now you can’t do anything about it. It’s not what a girl wants to hear, you know?”

Hermione nodded. “I do think she’ll think it’s sweet if you tell her later, when you’re safely able to, that you’ve admired her for a long time and were working towards the goal of blood status no longer being an issue keeping people apart. But Adella’s right, ‘I want to take you to the ball but I can’t’ isn’t really something a girl our age is likely to take well.”

Draco sighed. “I know,” he acknowledged, dejectedly. “I just… sometimes I really hate being me. I mean, I know I’m lucky. This saved me from being…” he shuddered. “But I’m still just as trapped in my role as I would be. I’m just aware of it now.”

“It’s not forever, guys,” Cedric tried to cheer them up. “Three more years of school and then you can all tell your fathers where to stick it.”

Blaise chuckled. “It’s not quite that simple, but the mental image is nice.”

“So, we know who Draco and Hermione are going with,” Neville spoke up, changing the subject. “And of course who Harry and Cedric have asked. Who’s everyone else going with?”

The group discussed dates and ideas about the Ball for a little longer before dispersing. It was coming up quickly; the 25th fell on Sunday, so they only had two more days until the event itself. Hermione expected she’d spend the better part of the afternoon getting herself ready, though it helped that Katie and Alicia had invited her up to their room to get ready with them rather than on her own or with her dorm mates.

Hermione admitted, if quietly, that she needed the help. The Ball would be her first formal event, and she just knew she’d be a bundle of nerves without friends to help keep her centered as well as provide necessary detail on what would be expected at a wizarding function.

Sunday afternoon, Hermione indulged in a long bath before wrapping herself in a bathrobe and taking herself, her dress and her small jewelry box up to the older girls’ dorm. “Come on in, Hermione,” Alicia said, stepping back from the door Hermione had politely knocked on. “We have plenty of time, so we’re starting with nails.”

Hermione resigned herself to spending part of the afternoon completely bewildered and out of her depth. She was pleasantly surprised when the others took the time to not only teach her the charms and cosmetic potions they used, but also what each one did and why some were better than others depending on a person’s coloring, hair type, skin type, and other various factors.

By the time they were ready to slip into their various dresses, Hermione felt like a highly polished jewel. Rather than trying to tame or straighten her curls, Angelina had come up with idea to use a charm that would tighten the long, bushy curls into ringlets, sharpening their appearance without completely changing Hermione’s signature hair. She then coaxed half of it up into a twist on Hermione’s head, leaving the rest to fall down Hermione’s back in a cascade of curls rather than the usual riot. Her features had been highlighted with the magical cosmetics, but she didn’t feel like a painted doll. Nor did she feel like she was hidden under caked-on makeup, the way she sometimes felt her roommates looked.

“Thanks,” Hermione said softly, distributing hugs to her friends. “I don’t think I could’ve figured this all out on my own.”

“You look gorgeous, Hermione,” Angelina said with approval. “Go knock the boys on their arses; we’ll be along shortly to pick their jaws up off the floor.”

“You really think…?” she began, but the other girls just smiled at her.

“You will. Promise,” Katie assured her. “Come on, I’ll walk down with you. I bet Harry’s ready to go anyway. And the Champions have to be down in the hall early.”

Harry was waiting alone in the common room, looking incredibly handsome. He approached Katie first and gave her a small bouquet of azaleas, gardenias, blue violets and jasmine, blushing furiously. Katie blushed herself, stammering about putting the flowers in water and rushing back up to her room for a moment. “You look incredible, Hermione,” Harry said softly. “I hope Viktor knows how lucky he is.”

“I’m sure he does, Harry,” Hermione said. “Are you nervous about the opening dance?”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said roughly. “It’s one dance and then the attention won’t be on me any more.”

“Just pretend they’re not there,” Hermione suggested. “And it’s you and me and Katie and Viktor and Fleur and Peter and Cedric and Cho. Just the eight of us.”

Harry considered it for a moment, then Katie was back downstairs. He offered his arm to her and she happily accepted it. “I get a date with  _ the _ Harry Potter,” she teased. Harry laughed, and they escaped before the common room filled up with other students. 

Making it down to the Entrance Hall, Hermione went to greet Viktor and blushed when she caught a mutter about terrifyingly beautiful women. Viktor bowed low to her and offered her an orchid that magically pinned itself into Hermione’s hair.

“Oh, how clever,” Katie gasped.

Peter and Fleur were already debating about the finer points of creatures versus beings that Harry could barely follow, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure Peter even noticed that Fleur was part Veela. Harry had also never seen Fleur so relaxed.

“I feel a bit like I’m in my mother’s dress robes,” Katie said quietly.

“It does feel a bit like that,” Harry agreed. “You look lovely though, not that you don’t normally look… I just meant…”

Katie burst out laughing. “I’ve never seen you like this, Harry. What happened to the get-the-snitch-or-die-trying Harry that is usually around?”

Harry laughed with her. “Still right here. Just… unusual circumstances, you know?”

“Yeah,” Katie nodded. “But we’re going to have fun tonight.” She leaned in and dropped her voice, “And you’re going to assume your sister’s date is a gentleman and  _ not _ spend the evening watching them suspiciously.”

Harry sputtered for a moment while Katie laughed, then relaxed and chuckled along. “She can take care of herself; if she needs us, she’ll find us. Besides, have you  _ met _ Hermione? If Viktor tries anything inappropriate she’d do more harm than any of us could and in half the time.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hermione chimed in, startling Harry and Katie. Then they realized McGonagall was ushering the champions and their dates into a line so they could sweep into the Great Hall and start the ball appropriately.

“Only thing vorse than vitch’s angry brother is vizard’s angry sister,” Viktor commented with a twinkle in his eye. Hermione and Katie laughed, and Viktor looked pleased with himself.

“Speak from experience Viktor?” Harry asked in a teasing voice as his body, thank Merlin, automatically started dancing. “From your  _ adoring  _ fans?”

“You vill see as vell, Harry,” Viktor said. “Vait and see…”

“It’s kind of a downside of the wizarding world that owls can home in on a person’s location,” Harry told Katie as the champions and their dates began the first dance. “It’s not like that at all in the muggle world.”

“Really? How so?”

“Muggles address everything based on location, just like in the wizarding world, but you have to know their location to send it to them,” Harry explained. “So celebrities… most people can’t send them anything because they don’t know where they are. And I’m pretty sure that constantly sending mail to a celebrity could eventually be called harassment.”

“Really?” Katie asked looking vaguely intrigued. “So you have to give your address to any friend you meet if you want correspondence?”

“Yup,” Harry confirmed. “Though there’s this new thing called email where you can instantly send messages via computer, which is pretty cool. You still have to give someone your specific address for it, though. It’s just not a physical address.”

“It must be really odd, living in both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds,” Katie remarked.

“Not really,” Harry said shrugging. “I admit the Wizarding World was a little… daunting… at first, but once I got used to it… being in both is kinda just normal.”

“I admit, I was a little star struck when you first came here,” Katie remarked, just as the song ended and they all clapped. “I’m glad I got the chance to know the real you.”

“Me too,” Harry said. The crowds were starting for the tables where dinner was to be served. “I mean, I’m glad that  _ I _ got the chance to know you. You’ve been a really good friend to both Hermione and I over the years.” There was an unspoken heaviness to the comment, that perhaps, after tonight, Katie would be more than that to Harry.

“You’re good people, the both of you,” Katie answered with a smile. “I get that you don’t relate well to a lot of your peers, though. You’re both mature for your age, and just about everybody in the school had their own preconceptions - about both of you. Hermione for her background and you for being, well,  _ you _ .”

“Anyone who really wants to be famous is  _ nutters _ ,” Harry muttered.

“I like that, though,” Katie said quietly. “You just want to be Harry; you don’t care what other people want you to be and even when you do live up to people’s expectations it’s usually because you’re trying to do the right thing.”

“I always appreciated people who were happy to let me be myself,” Harry admitted. “Hermione was one of the first, but you were pretty quick about it once we got to know each other via the Quidditch team.”

“You seemed closer to the Weasley twins for a long time,” Katie answered shyly. “But I always thought it was fun to spend time with you, even if it was just practice.”

“The Weasley twins are both smarter than they let on and bloody hard to intimidate. They don’t take a lot seriously, and they made it hard for me to take myself too seriously when things got hard. You know?” Katie nodded when Harry paused, and he smiled before continuing, “You’re good at helping me think about other things. It’s kinda the same, you know. It’s hard to stress about how hard things are sometimes when you’re here to make me smile.”

Harry led Katie to the one table with the ‘Reserved for Tournament Champions’ sign on it; he was glad the four of them could spend the meal together. The four couples settled around the the table, and they spent the meal alternating between friendly banter across the tables and quieter discussions with their dates.

The only annoyance was when Bagman stood up and made some sort of pompous speech about challenge and fortitude and competition; Harry mostly ignored it. What he did notice, though, was the absence of Mr. Crouch; the usually dour faced man was nowhere to be seen up at the table where the professors and ministry officials were gathered for the meal. Eventually, though, Bagman concluded his presentation so dessert could be served. Every teen in the room immediately gave their desserts far more attention than they had Mr. Bagman.

Dessert was wrapping up when Hermione leaned her head on Viktor’s shoulder so they could talk quietly. “Would you be terribly upset if I danced a song or two with another boy, Viktor?” she asked in a low, almost subdued tone.

Viktor paused for a moment, the question clearly unexpected. “Not upset or angry, no. But vhy…?”

Hermione took a slow breath. “One of my friends told me, after he found out I was coming with you, that he was sorry he hadn’t asked me first. I’m not regretting coming with you or anything, but he asked if I might spare him a dance or two. I told him I would try, but if it would bother you or be inappropriate, I won’t.”

Taking her hand in his larger one, Viktor placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Vill not bother me. I have a friend or two I might also like to dance vith. Ve come together, but does not mean ve are only ones here. If it makes you happy, I vill not object.”

“Thank you.” Hermione lifted her head and kissed his cheek briefly, trying not to blush.

“To see you smile, I vould share you vith another,” Viktor told her in a very low voice. “I am not a possessive man.”

“I never thought you were, particularly,” Hermione admitted. “I just… well… I don’t want to embarrass you or make you think I would rather be here with someone else. But he’s a good friend, too.”

Viktor chuckled. “Not all Vizarding communities stuck in Victorian England,” he informed her lightly. “Some cultures and traditions accept relationships that are not strictly one man, one voman.”

“Oh!” Hermione blinked, her expression startled. “How open-minded of them,” she managed to finish. Most of their education thus far had been centered on local wizarding culture; she supposed Imperialism probably had something to do with the way they were taught, but even with their trips to France and Italy it hadn’t entirely sunk in that not all wizarding cultures had the same values. 

Viktor chuckled at her surprise and simply let her think her own thoughts until the music began again. He rose to his feet and then offered her his hand. “Vould like to dance until friend comes to ask you?”

She took his hand, rising gracefully to her feet. “Yes, thank you.” He bowed to her with a pleased smile and led her back to the dance floor.

“I know… ve haff an age gap,” Viktor said slowly. “I hope you do not find me too… forvard. I haff found that it is best to… ‘all cards on the table’, yes?”

“I don’t mind,” Hermione assured him. “I know I’m a little younger than you are, and I had realized that wizarding society encourages marriage at a younger age. But I appreciate your honesty in any case. I think any differences between people can be overcome with honest communication and a willingness to be open-minded and understanding.”

“Am not fond of politics or… smooth speaking?” Viktor looked unsure of his wording.

“Smooth talking, you mean,” Hermione offered gently. “It’s something politicians are typically known for. I’m not the most tactful person, myself, though I do have some practice with it. I will always do my best not to be offended if you speak plainly with me. I would rather know the truth than hear pretty words designed not to offend.” She smiled shyly. “Besides, I have friends but I’m… not used to boys being interested in me as a girl. If you’re too subtle, I might not understand what you really mean.”

“Any boy vho does not see you as a girl is a fool,” Viktor said softly. “You know the first thing I notice about you?” Hermione shook her head, a little curiously. “You care little about looks, and much about intelli-” Viktor stopped, murmuring in Bulgarian, then Russian.

“Intelligence?” Hermione offered, stepping carefully as he twirled her around.

Viktor nodded. “Da. Yes. Some vives of my team, or the vomen fans who fling themselves at us… they are vapid things. They know little of the vorld and do not vish to know. Karkaroff vould like to see me marry a voman like this. My team did not understand vhy I came back to school, but I think you vould.”

“I like learning. I can’t imagine  _ not _ finishing school,” Hermione admitted. “Heck, I’m not sure I understand why people think they can stop learning after NEWTs. My parents spent another eight years in school after their A-levels; I can’t imagine that there aren’t wizarding universities somewhere. Masters and apprentices is such a  _ dated _ system…” She cut herself off, blushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble. But yes, I understand wanting to finish school. Why wouldn’t you?”

Viktor shrugged. “Some would use the excuse,” he said simply. “But I… I vant more out of life than Quidditch. I vant to change the vorld, for the better.”

“I think that’s a wonderful thing,” Hermione beamed. “I remember my grandmother telling my parents that each generation should leave a better world for their children and grandchildren. I would like to make the world a better place, too.”

Hermione glanced over at Harry. He and Katie were waltzing on the dance floor, talking quietly to each other. She smiled when she saw that they only seemed to have eyes for each other. She supposed that Katie was good enough for her brother, but only just.

There was a scuffle at the other end of the dance floor just as the song concluded, drawing everyone’s attention. George had Ron by the scruff of his robes and Fleur was staring at them, wide-eyed and faintly scowling. An instant later, Fred tapped on Hermione’s shoulder, drawing her attention.

“May I have this dance?” Fred asked. He turned to Viktor, giving him a once-over. “As long as the gentleman doesn’t have any objections.”

“Please,” Viktor said, catching Hermione’s slight nod, and went off to find his Durmstrang friends. Both Hermione and Fred missed the long stare Viktor shot Fred.

“What was that all about?” Hermione asked after he left, nodding towards where George, Ron, and Fleur had been.

“Ron discovered his hormones,” Fred snorted. “He likes you. Has for a long time. He’s just… figuring it out right now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes in response. “Name calling and explosive temper is definitely not the way to go. He’s been slightly more decent this year, but if he wanted to patch up our friendship he missed his chance a long time ago.”

“I know,” Fred soothed her, dipping her extravagantly as a distraction. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep him from ruining your evening. You deserve so much better than Ron’s temper for your first formal event.”

“Thank you,” Hermione answered with a small smile. It was odd how touched she was by way Fred was determined to protect her from his brother. Usually she would protest that she could handle herself just fine, thank you; despite that, she was having a good evening and she really didn’t need another fight with Ron to ruin things. So she wouldn’t argue about it.

Fred took her gratitude in stride, though he relaxed minutely when she didn’t protest. So he pulled her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re welcome,” he murmured. “Honestly, I wish he’d realize that he’s burned the bridge between him and you and Harry. He’s starting to grow up and acting more mature, and then he’s reminded that you two are having this awesome life without him,” Fred twirled Hermione. “And he’s back to acting like a child.”

“He will figure it out eventually,” Hermione said, leaning her head on his shoulder like she had with Viktor. She was a little surprised that it felt the same to her. She found comfort in both shoulders. “You’re right, he’s better.” She paused. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot,” Fred said.

“Why did you want to ask me to the dance?” Hermione asked.

Fred stumbled for a moment and went brick-red. “I… uh… I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even George knows. Not really.”

Hermione studied Fred’s face for a long time. “Okay,” she said slowly. 

“I’m… I like you. I mean… I’m in love with you,” Fred admitted. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met, not that I really realized it. Witches in our world are expected to be… I guess demure is a good word for it. I’ve never really been interested in that. Witches, after they marry, are expected to default to what their husbands say. I always hated watching everyone from mediwitches to ministry officials looking to my Dad for answers about my Mum, like she couldn’t answer. And my Mum who’s… well, you’ve met her, but she just  _ lets _ Dad speak for her.” Fred looked disgusted, apparently so angry that he forgot he’d just revealed that he was  _ in love _ with Hermione.

Hermione bit back a startled gasp as Fred poured his heart out to her. In love with her… she’d had no idea. Then she smiled wryly as she put together the rest. He loved her  _ because _ she wouldn’t just become a meek little housewitch. She realized she would be very likely to have few wizards who would want to marry her, simply because she’d never be the kind of wife they would want.

But if the Yule Ball had taught her one thing, it was not to jump at the first option that presented itself with the idea that there wouldn’t be another.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly after gathering her thoughts. “I’ll be honest and say that wizarding society’s ideas of marriage baffle me more than a bit. I… hadn’t really given much thought to marriage yet, or even a relationship beyond Hogwarts. But you’re right, I don’t think I’ll ever be happy to be the kind of meek housewitch a lot of British wizards seem to expect by default.”

Fred frowned and shook himself, tamping down on the anger with determination. “That’s not really what I meant you to take from that, ‘Mione,” he said sheepishly. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that when Fred called her that, it wasn’t in the same, lazy tone that she’d always hated from Ron. There was a heat behind it that was all together foreign to Hermione, but she found she didn’t mind at all. “Though you’re not wrong that I only want you to be yourself.” He hugged her close, as close as the dance would allow. “I love  _ you _ , Hermione Granger.”

“I’m getting that,” she replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I… I don’t know what to say… I care about you a lot, but...”

“But hadn’t really thought about romance? That’s the practical Hermione I know,” Fred teased, a little sad but he’d already known she didn’t really return his feelings. On the other hand, she wasn’t telling him she loved someone else, so perhaps there was hope for the future.

“It’s not that I won’t,” Hermione said desperately, worried when she glimpsed the sadness in the depths of his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it for  _ anyone _ , really. I’m only fifteen. And I’ve been spending so much time - every year Harry has another near-death experience. I’ve spent so much emotional energy on that I never thought about who I liked or possibly loved. All I know is that I like you and you’re one of the few people who have always accepted me for me.”

It was true, he had. But so had Viktor. Viktor! Oh, Merlin, how was this even her life? Dancing with one boy, who professed his love for her, while supposedly on a date with another boy - one who’d made her feel beautiful in and of herself for the first time she could really remember. It made her feel different from when her dad or uncles told her she was pretty, or even when Harry and Neville told her she looked nice. Feeling beautiful for a date was… something she’d never experienced before.

She wanted to explore this… whatever this was… with Viktor. The way he made her feel. But now she wondered where her feelings for Fred might take her, too. Was that even a thing that was possible? Someone would be hurt, no matter what she did, if she had to choose. And that wasn’t something she wanted to do. 

She decided to table her thoughts until the night was over. It was too complicated and she didn’t know enough. She didn’t have to make a decision tonight, and that idea helped her to relax again.

After the dance was over, Viktor wandered over and asked if she wanted to go for a walk in the gardens. Fred looked a little sad and disappointed but encouraged her to go. Harry and Katie were still dancing with each other and she saw several girls watching Katie enviously. She idly wondered what Harry would think if she asked his permission to talk to Viktor about Harry’s involvement in the Tournament. He was the only champion not currently involved in keeping Harry alive through the dangers.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “Let’s go.” She thought it was a little strange that Viktor gave Fred a small bow as she took his arm, but since she didn’t know what to make of it she decided not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, young love. We hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did writing it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is discussed and the aftermath of the ball is realized by more than just the students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sans-Winter today, and I don't know about you, but I've been going into withdrawals! Never the less, here's your end-of-week chapter! (Deep breath lovelies. Friday is almost here.)

Hermione and Viktor walked a little ways towards the lake, where the Durmstrang ship floated serenely, then wandered around the greenhouses, enjoying the chill night after the heat of the Great Hall. Viktor performed warming charms on both of them and transfigured a branch by the side of the path into a fur cloak for Hermione when the chill finally set in. It was a while before Viktor spoke. “May I ask,” he started, obviously treading carefully and thinking hard about his wording. “You explained sibling bond vith Harry. Is that all of story?”

Hermione froze. “What do you mean? He’s my brother,” she said stiffly.

“I did not mean offense,” Viktor said softly. “I merely meant… Harry speaks of your family fondly. He does not speak of his family… ever.”

“Neither do you,” Hermione pointed out.

Viktor shrugged. “I vill if asked by someone genuinely int-interested,” he responded lightly. “Family is private vhen possible; not for fans or papers.” He gave Hermione a glance. “I am half-blood. My grandfather… My father’s father... vas killed by one of Grindelvald’s followers. My grandmother… my mother’s mother… she survived the Holocaust. My father’s parents took my mother’s family in after… after the Tsar negotiated the Bulgarians’ release from Treblinka. My grandmother vas showing signs of magic in the camp. Vhen they vere released, vith no ‘ome, the Krums took them in. My father always knew my mother. They fell in love at school.” 

Hermione smiled, though her eyes were touched with sadness at the mention of the Holocaust. “That’s very sweet. I’m glad your mother and grandmother found a good family to be safe with. The War… was a terrible tragedy, for so many countries and peoples. My grandparents lived through it, too, but they don’t talk about it much anymore. I’ve heard my grandmum talk about the Blitzes in London a few times, though.” She tilted her head slightly. “So your mother is Jewish as well as a witch? Or… perhaps I shouldn’t ask that. I apologize if I’m being rude.”

“Da. But it is not known. Even to my friends. Karkaroff… ve must be careful. My family… ve hid the truth for long time. I trust you not to tell my secret. But you have not answered my question..”

Hermione took a breath and considered her answer, then cast a privacy charm around them, Viktor raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. “What do you know about Harry’s childhood?” she asked.

Viktor shrugged. “He vas raised by purebloods. Friend of family, yes?”

Hermione teared up as she shook her head. It used to make her so angry, thinking about how small and thin Harry had been back in first year, how awfully scared he was of the teachers, even though he did a good job of hiding it. How he sat at the table as if surprised that he was allowed to share in the overly abundant food. At times it still made her mad… but at other times it made her want to cry. For Harry. For Sirius and Remus and the family they all should have had. “That’s what everyone thinks. It’s not true, though. Not at all. But…” Hermione bit her lip, hesitating. It wasn’t really her story to tell. She trusted Viktor, especially after he trusted her about his family. But would Harry be angry? “Look,” she said, jumping in head-first the way Harry always seemed to. “If I tell you, you have to promise me that you never tell a living soul.”

“I do. I svear on my magic,” Viktor said. The promise seemed significant somehow.

Hermione took a slow, calming breath. “After… after Harry’s parents died, he was sent to live with his relatives. His  _ Muggle _ relatives, who hate magic. When we met, first year, Harry was so young and small, and  _ scared _ of some of the teachers. So I… I wrote my parents, who investigated in the Muggle world. Viktor, they were  _ awful _ to him… they never wanted him at all!”

Viktor stared at Hermione for a moment, then emitted a long string of words that Hermione was fairly sure were swears. “I vondered vhy… My parents vere anti-USSR protesters and vhen I vas a boy, their friends sometimes came over, ones vho had been beaten in prison for protesting. Harry sometimes looks a bit like them. I vondered… Is he still there? Does he need help?” 

“No, thank god,” Hermione answered quietly. “My parents got him out; we adopted him about six months later. Harry really is my brother, just that most people don’t know it.”

Viktor nodded. “I vill not say anything. I am sorry he vas alone…” Viktor said softly, then he smiled. “But I am glad he has you.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled back. “I’m glad to have him, too. I was an only child, and I’d always wanted a sibling. But I think my accidental magic as a child scared my parents off the idea of another baby; I didn’t realize at the time, of course, but I think I scared them a few times. Blew up a television during a tantrum.”

Viktor chuckled. “I think you have not changed much, then.” He looked at her for a long time, and she felt a little awkward but at the same time she couldn’t look away. “You remind me of father’s mother. Fierce. Protective. Big heart, keep cherished ones close.”

Hermione blushed. “Someone has to take care of them. Especially when they’re more worried about taking care of everyone else.” Though she wasn’t any different; the past year had taught her as much. Worrying about Harry to the point of neglecting herself, until her parents stepped in to take care of her… it hadn’t really changed her impulses, just made her more aware of them.

“But vho takes care of you?” Viktor asked lowly, a knowing smile crossing his face. Hermione shrugged and Viktor opened his arms. Hermione half-fell into them as he wrapped himself around her. She felt safe, in his arms. “I vould take care of you,” Viktor whispered. “As long as you vill let me.”

~~~~~~~~

Harry was having a great time with Katie. They danced and when they needed a breather they drank punch or walked in the entrance hall. Finally, they decided to call it a night, but Harry escorted Katie back the long way to the Tower. 

“I’m kind of glad we had all this going on this year. It’s better than going home to my parents, who will undoubtedly try and push me into a career that I don’t want.” Katie made a face. “You get career advisement your OWL year. You think about what you want to do, and then your Head of House tells you what OWLs or NEWTS you’d need for that.”

“Do you  _ know _ what you want to do?” Harry asked curiously.

“I don’t want to be behind a desk, that’s for sure,” Katie said. “I think I want to travel. See the world, you know? I’m decent at Defense; maybe I could be a ward-setter or a curse-breaker. There’s also the International Dueling League... I don’t know, I just don’t want to stay here my whole life and never experience another way of thinking.”

Harry nodded. “I get that. It’s a good idea, to see a different way of living.”

“Do you have any ideas of what you’d want to do?” Katie asked softly. “It’s okay… if you don’t.”

Harry was quiet for a moment. “If I can dare to dream I can survive all this… I don’t know, a part of me loves the idea of a quiet life. After all the excitement I’ve had… I like the idea of something simple. Maybe go for my Potions Mastery… but I also really like Arithmancy… and then there’s an idea I could possibly go to Uni for a Maths degree.”

“Maths? Like addition, subtraction?” Katie asked.

Harry smiled. “Yeah, but a bit more complicated. Like, there’s this muggle thing called Phi, spelled P-H-I. It’s part of the ratio, called the Golden Ratio, that is found in a lot of stuff in nature. A lot of muggles who study it say that phi expresses everything that the human eye sees as beautiful in mathematical form. I’ve been curious since the World Cup about whether Veela’s faces have a perfect ratio on some magical level.” Harry blushed. “Though you, er, might be a bit closer to it.”

“Harry Potter,” Katie exclaimed, blushing herself. “Are you  _ flirting _ with me?”

“I was trying,” Harry admitted. “I’m not… very good at it.” They stared at each other for a long moment, then Harry broke off his gaze and started walking again. “Phi’s actually really interesting. You can see it in galaxies and pinecones, and flowers… it’s even in the Whomping Willow.”

“That’s… actually rather fascinating,” Katie said after giving it a moment’s consideration. “So it’s kind of like advanced Arithmancy, but instead of determining outcomes of changes to potions or calculating the risks involved in breaking a curse, it’s applied to the physical world?”

“In some ways, yes,” Harry agreed, smiling happily that she was obviously making the effort to understand.

“Maybe you should study it, and then bring it back to the wizarding world to teach?” Katie suggested. “I can see some real benefits to combining disciplines.”

“Possibly.” Harry shrugged. “There are aspects of maths applicable to astronomy, too. Equations that demonstrate the paths the planets take around the sun, or that track the paths of the stars in our sky.”

“Have you talked to Professor Vector about it?”

Harry grinned. “Not yet, but I keep being tempted. There’s an aspect of maths and physics, called vector equations. Her name would have a lot of muggles wondering if she or perhaps an ancestor of hers taught maths.”

“I doubt there’s a single person at Hogwarts without a muggle ancestor of some kind,” Katie said. “Even if you’re a pureblood. They’re not nearly as pureblooded as people think. Especially because if you’re pureblooded, it just means your grandparents were magical. Even if all your great-grandparents were all muggles.”

“Yeah, the whole ‘blood-status’ thing never made sense to me,” Harry said. “Though it is a little cool that I can track half my family back as far as I can. I guess I have so little connection to my birth family that I take what I can get.”

All too soon, Harry and Katie reached the Fat Lady. “This is me,” Katie said, at the bottom of the stairs to the girls’ dorms. “Thank you… for tonight.”

Harry bit his lip. “Katie? Do you… I mean, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me? Next time we get a weekend?”

Katie smiled. “I’d love to,” she agreed.

Harry’s nerves grew as she turned away to go up the stairs. “Katie?” he asked again. The second she turned, he launched forward and kissed her. “Goodnight,” he murmured as their lips parted.

Katie blushed and wished him a good night before turning to dart up the steps to the girls’ dorms. Harry sank into the couch by the fire with a happy sigh. 

“Evening Harry,” George chirped from the chair next to him. “Have a good evening then?”

Harry blushed and sank deeper. “What did you see?” he groaned softly.

“Enough to want to ask, as Katie’s teammate, what your designs on her are,” George said lightly. “Of course, I really  _ should _ tell Angelina and Alicia about this.”

“Oh god…” Harry groaned, suddenly incredibly embarrassed by the fact that his first kiss had been witnessed.

“Oh like Katie’s not going to tell Angelina and Alicia all about what just happened,” George laughed. “I was just sitting here thinking. I was almost positive everyone was upstairs already, but apparently there’s a few stragglers still. Still, it’s getting pretty late. Come on, mate, let’s go to bed.”

“Has Hermione come back yet?” Harry asked as they pushed themselves to their feet. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing her much past dinner…”

“Oh, she danced for a while. Then ickle Ronniekins got his knickers in a twist, and I think Krum took her outside for a walk,” George responded.

“Ron? What’s got Ron upset this time?” Harry asked, irritated by their former friend’s continued animosity.

“Nothing that isn’t his own bloody fault. We took care of it, Harry, I promise. Hermione didn’t have to hear a word. On a side note, Fleur Delacour is a bloody terrifying woman.”

“How so?” Harry asked, as they started up for the dorms.

“Well, she may have heard what Ron said, and she may have followed me when I dragged Ron out of the Great Hall to cool off… and I may have explained the back story of everything. She got  _ really _ mad at Ron, and started lecturing him about how to treat women.”

Harry blinked, then chuckled. “I almost wish I’d been around to hear that. I’m glad neither I nor Hermione had our evenings interrupted, but that might almost have been worth it.”

“It was  _ well _ worth listening to, trust me!” George laughed. “Bloody terrible for Ronnikins, I’m sure, but hilarious from where I stood.”

“I’ll have to ask her about it, then,” Harry grinned. “Anything you think is terrifying is definitely worth hearing about.”

George snickered. “I don’t think I could’ve scared him half as bad. Though since I didn’t get to hex him, he’s got at least a few pranks coming his way.”

Fred and Lee were in their dorm when George and Harry arrived. “Hullo, you two,” Lee greeted them cheerfully. “Have a good time with your  _ dates _ ?”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Harry responded cheekily. Lee and Fred had decided to tag along with friends, as they claimed they didn’t have anyone they particularly wanted to ask to the ball. “Though I did see you both on the dance floor at least a few times.”

“Yeah,” Lee agreed. “It was fun. Though this one’s all moody and disgusting me now.” He pointed at Fred. “He’s gone ga-ga over your sister.”

Harry blinked. Shook his head as if trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. “He’s done what now?”

“Arse,” Fred grumped at Lee. “I’ve got a prank with your name on it, mate.”

“Better than listening to you mope,” Lee countered.

“Rewind, please,” Harry said, then sighed when he got blank looks from the purebloods in the room. “It means back up. Start again. I thought I heard you say something about my sister?”

Fred scrubbed his hands over his face. “I like her, all right? A lot. Just… kinda hit me, watchin’ her dance with Krum.”

Harry frowned. “She seemed fine last time I saw her. I hope that didn’t change after I lost track of her.”

“If it did, it wasn’t me!” Fred protested. “We talked a bit, I danced a dance with her once while George hauled Ronnikins out of the Hall. Kept her out of reach from baby brother’s temper When Krum asked her to take a walk, I told her to go and have fun.”

“He doesn’t think Hermione will give him a chance with Krum around,” Lee explained. 

“It’s Viktor  _ Krum _ !” Fred exclaimed. “He’s famous. And a Quidditch God.”

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry offered, smirking. “And Hermione doesn’t care about Quidditch. She goes to games to support her friends, who do care. She and her mum used to do the same thing with her dad and footie games. Now he and I go, and the girls stay home.”

Lee blinked. “What do she and Krum even talk about, if not Quidditch?”

Harry laughed. “Last time I heard? Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”

“Great,” Fred said, flopping onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. “He’s athletic  _ and _ smart. No wonder he went after Hermione.”

Harry resisted the temptation to throw a pillow at his roommate.

“Did Katie have a good time tonight?” Lee asked. Harry was thankful for the change of subject.

“I think so,” Harry said with a shrug. “I mean she said she’d go with me to Hogsmeade.”

“What?” Fred asked, sitting bolt upright, properly distracted. 

“Oh that’s nothing on what I walked in on,” George said, fully grinning. “Our little Marauder heir is growing up.”

“What did you walk in on?” Lee asked.

Harry blushed. “You can tell them or I will,” George said devilishly.

“Imighthavekisseder,” Harry said in a rush. 

“You know, Gred, I think I heard the word ‘kissed’ in there somewhere,” Fred said teasingly.

“You absolutely did, Forge,” George replied. “And a rather sweet kiss it was.”

“Katie Potter, hmmm,” Lee said with a grin. “That’s got a good ring to it.”

“Oh, shove off,” Harry griped, trying to take the teasing in good humor but not sure he was succeeding. “It was one date, with hopefully one to follow. I’d like to graduate before you marry us off.”

“You’re no fun,” Fred said, blowing a raspberry at Harry.

“What I am is  _ tired _ ,” Harry snapped finally. “I’m going to bed.” 

“Fine,” George replied with a smirk. “Night, Harry.”

~~~~~~~~

Hermione had no idea how long she stayed in Viktor’s arms, relishing in the feeling of warmth and safety she seldom got to experience while at school. They eventually resumed walking out on the grounds, talking quietly about home and family for each of them. Eventually, though, Hermione couldn’t keep herself from yawning.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized quickly. “It’s not the company, I promise. It’s probably getting late, though.”

Viktor pulled out his wand and cast a quick  _ tempus _ . His eyes widened when he realized it was half one in the morning. “My apologies. I had no idea.”

“Nor did I,” she answered, waving off the need to apologize. “I should probably get back. I had a wonderful evening, Viktor. Thank you. For everything.”

Viktor bowed over her hand. “No. Thank you for gifting your presence. I am honored.”

Hermione took Viktor’s arm again as they walked much more briskly back towards the castle. However, when they got there they discovered the main entry doors were locked. “Oh, no,” Hermione whispered, half-panicked, swishing her wand several times with various unlocking charms. “We’re locked out!”

Viktor tried a few spells of his own, then swore in Bulgarian. “Many apologies. Should have had you back sooner. Vas irresponsible.” He paused to pull her closer, soothing her with his embrace. “Am not doing so vell as protector, am I?” he sighed. “Ve of Durmstrang sleep on boat; may not be proper, but safer to come vith than stay outside? I give you my room; vill go share vith a friend.”

Hermione hesitated, but didn’t really see an alternative unless she wanted to go knock on the door to Hagrid’s hut. Which she definitely didn’t want to do. “All-all right,” she agreed helplessly.

They began the walk back towards the Lake, where the Durmstrang boat was moored. The great carriage from Beauxbatons rested along the path between the lake and the castle. Passing by, they saw a small cluster of students still sitting outside by the gate. “‘Ermione?” came Fleur’s familiar voice as they came into the circle of light from the carriage.

“Bonsoir, Fleur,” Hermione returned the greeting as they paused. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else still out and about.”

“They closed the castle an ‘our ago,” Fleur replied. “We have been relaxing since, enjoying the night sky. Madame Maxime does not enforce curfew on of-age students, especially on a night of celebration.”

At that point Hermione realized she was the youngest in the group of students by at least two years; the others were, as explained, all of age. She fought a blush; she’d been doing a lot more blushing lately than she was used to. “We came out for a walk and some quiet, and I can’t get back inside,” Hermione admitted in a very low voice.

“Oh, you poor zhing,” one of the other girls spoke up. “Zhey did not announce curfew time?” 

Hermione shook her head. “Not that I heard…”

Fleur tisked softly. “Non, non, thees will not do! People will talk if you stay the night with Viktor. You must stay with us, ‘Ermione.”

“You are only a leetle smaller than me,” a girl Hermione knew in passing as Marie spoke up. “I am sure we can alter clothes to fit; you can return them when they are clean. I will not mind.”

Hermione looked between Viktor and Fleur, worrying her lower lip uncertainly. “Fleur is right; it vill look better for you to come to breakfast vith them and not vith me,” Viktor told her quietly. “But is up to you.”

Finally Hermione nodded. “Thank you for the invitation, and for your kindness,” she said gratefully. “I accept.”

“Excellent!” Fleur exclaimed happily. “We shall let you say good night, then.” She ushered the other students towards the door of the carriage, giving Hermione and Viktor a few moments of privacy.

“I really did have a wonderful evening, Viktor. Thank you again,” Hermione said softly.

“The honor vas mine,” Viktor replied. He took both her hands in his and bowed over them, pressing a kiss to the back of each wrist. He looked at her when she didn’t immediately release him and instead stepped closer. “I ask permission…” he began, their lips only inches apart.

“Yes,” she interrupted without letting him finish. He drew her in closer and touched his lips to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. Hermione sighed happily and kissed him back. Though light and chaste, it was a wonderful first kiss from a boy.

“Good night, Her-my-own,” he murmured, carefully sounding his way through her name though not quite getting it. It was closer than his first attempts had been, at least.

“Good night, Viktor,” she answered softly. “Sleep well.”

He waited at the road for her to rejoin the group of Beauxbatons students. She turned to wave when she was safely with the others, who swiftly ushered her inside in a flutter of French. Thank goodness she’d been practicing and could keep up!

The next morning, Harry admittedly panicked when he realized that Hermione wasn’t anywhere in Gryffindor Tower. After he’d been told by one of the portraits that Hermione had left the castle last night with Viktor Krum and hadn’t returned, Harry was still a little worried. Not that he thought Viktor would do anything ungentlemanly, or that Hermione should be shamed if anything did happen. No, Harry was worried simply because he didn’t know where Hermione was. 

Fred was also vaguely worried, though Fred seemed rather wary of Harry after their conversation the night before, so he wasn’t really saying much. Eventually they decided to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast and to talk to McGonagall. Thankfully though, when they got there, Harry saw Hermione sitting with the female Beauxbatons students.

“Thank god,” Harry exclaimed, rushing over and sitting down next to Hermione before giving her a relieved hug. “I didn’t know where you were!”

Hermione blushed a little, but hid it against his shoulder as she returned the hug. “I got locked out,” she revealed. “Fleur was kind enough to extend me an invitation to stay with them.”

“Oh!” Harry’s eyes went wide. He turned to Fleur and said in French, “Thank you for helping my sister last night. Both after curfew and earlier in the evening.”

“You are most welcome, the both of you,” Fleur replied in the same language, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “And yes, I did tell her about my words to  _ that _ little boy last night. Some people have no manners.”

“I think I laughed myself to sleep last night,” Hermione admitted quietly, reverting to English as more students filled in seats at the table. “I much prefer it to the angry tears that might have wrapped up the evening had she and George not stepped in when they did.”

“What did you  _ say _ ? George wouldn’t tell me,” Harry inquired.

“I simply told him that if he was going to act like a child, it was no wonder Hermione did not wish to associate with him,” Fleur explained in French. “Little boys get jealous puppy love, only real men know how to handle real love. And so I told that  _ little boy _ that he was not man enough to deserve Hermione.”

Harry burst out laughing, and Hermione started giggling just at the look on her brother’s face. “Well done, my friend,” Harry replied in French.

“I gave Fleur a little of the background last night,” Hermione told Harry when he’d calmed down. “She told me she was doubly glad she’d stepped in, then.”

Harry nodded, accepting her judgement in what she shared. It’s not like their problems with Ron were secret anyway. “Did you enjoy the Ball?”

Hermione nodded, smiling brightly. “I really did! I danced a while with Viktor, and then Fred came over to distract me from Ron getting hauled out of the Great Hall. We danced for a while. And then Viktor and I went for a walk on the grounds, and we talked… a lot. I honestly had no idea how late it was until we decided to call it a night and I couldn’t get back inside,” she finished in a near-whisper, not wanting it generally known that she’d been out all night if she could avoid it.

She didn’t doubt people would hear about it eventually, but she hoped it would ultimately be lost in the furor over the Ball and the Tournament. Harry did notice that people were staring at them as they came into the Great Hall. More than usual. He blushed a little when he saw Katie, Angelina, and Alicia come in. “What?” Hermione asked, following his eyeline. “Did  _ you _ enjoy the Ball?”

Harry blushed more, but nodded. “I had a good time,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I… I’m really glad that I asked Katie to go with me.”

Fleur seemed to zero in on exactly what happened. “Was it your first kiss?” she asked, mercifully in French. Fleur’s words grabbed people’s attention, but not many, and all the people who heard were at least friendly with Harry.

“Don’t tell her if it was, Harry,” Hermione said teasingly. “You’ll be in for a whole mealtime of cooing over young love if you do!”

“I remember my first kiss,” Fleur continued, sighing with a smile at the memory. “I have to say, Christmas really makes me homesick. Yule Logs sprinkled with wine, good French food, family…”

“Grandmere does all of that when we visit them for Christmas,” Hermione agreed. “It’s always so lovely, and she’s very particular about finding a wine I will like so I can toast with everyone else.”

“What does your palette appreciate, cherie?” Fleur asked curiously.

“I prefer dessert wines. A syrrah or a sweet riesling. One year she got me an ice wine, which was amazing but I was only allowed to have one tiny glass. It’s strong stuff, apparently.”

Fleur smiled. “We shall have to expand your horizons when you palette has matured somewhat. Do you drink at all Harry?”

Harry screwed up his face somewhat. He’d been offered tastes when the adults had glasses of wine or a mug of beer at home, but he had been having a hard time removing the correlation between alcohol and the things Uncle Vernon did when he drank. He wasn’t nearly as tense around Mum and Dad when they drank, but he didn’t like it. “No, I don’t,” he said simply. “I don’t care for the taste.”

“Not everyone does,” was Fleur’s only comment. “That may also change as you get older, but it will be up to you if you want to try.”

Harry nodded, pleased when she let the subject drop. Hermione touched his wrist lightly in a comforting gesture and returned her attention to breakfast. Conversation around them was largely still centered on people’s experiences at the Ball the night before.

There was a huge hubbub when the Prophet was delivered and an article by Rita Skeeter announced that Hagrid was a half-giant, dispelling all talk of rumors about Hermione staying out all night with Viktor or Harry kissing Katie Bell. 

“A half-giant?” Guillame asked, sounding scandalized. “He’s a  _ teacher _ ?”

“Everybody’s different,” Harry said with a shrug, noticing that Hagrid wasn’t at the staff table. “He’s probably the gentlest person I know, and he has a soft heart for all living things, even things that are considered ugly or dangerous by society’s standards.”

Hermione shook her head, smiling fondly. “They aren’t all as ‘harmless’ as he likes to think they are, but he genuinely wants all creatures to have a safe home. And he does get along with a surprising number of intelligent creatures. He taught us  _ so _ much about hippogriffs and how to befriend them, that first year he taught classes. And honestly, his acceptance of anything and anyone is part of what makes him such a good friend. Muggle-born, half-blood, magical creature or some combination thereof… I think Hagrid would be friends with anyone without hesitation, as long as they weren’t needlessly cruel or evil.”

Fleur nodded. “It is a good reminder what we learn as children,” she said. “What things look like is not necessarily how they are.”

“We have a phrase,” Harry agreed. “‘Don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ to teach people that lesson. We all have assumptions and prejudices. The important thing is to do your best to fight against them.”

“A good lesson to remember,” Fleur agreed. “Though it can be useful to make use of people’s preconceptions, to make them underestimate you.”

Hermione laughed. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Moi?” Fleur gave them a guileless look. “Of course not.” Hermione smirked but didn’t press the issue. She and Harry both understood.

“Hagrid would be good to talk to if you’re interested in Magical Creatures,” Harry told Fleur. “He really does know his stuff.”

“I think I will,” Fleur said. “Madame Maxime said ‘e is doing a good job with zee ‘orses.”

A young girl, about the age of a first year came up and squeezed next to Fleur. Fleur gave the girl a hug before dishing her plate up with the healthiest things within reach.

“Merry Christmas,” Fleur said to the girl in French. She glanced at Harry’s and Hermione’s curious looks. ”This is my sister, Gabrielle. She normally sits with the first years, but Christmas is time for family. Gabrielle, this is Harry and Hermione.” 

“Happy Christmas,” Harry and Hermione chorused, both in French. The little girl grinned at them.

“Merry Christmas. It’s nice to meet you,” Gabrielle returned politely in French.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Hermione said gently, smiling. “Are you enjoying visiting Hogwarts?”

“Yes, but I miss Mama and Papa. It’s strange to not be home for Christmas,” Gabrielle replied.

“We understand. It’s strange for us, too,” Harry told her.

They listened for a bit as the young girl chattered for a while about Christmas, the letters she’d received from her parents the previous morning, and the gifts that had been delivered despite the distance. Harry asked her a few leading questions, giving the girl tacit permission to chatter like a magpie with the indulgence of the elder students.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall interrupted. She had a piece of parchment in her hands that was folded up. She gave it to Harry, who unfolded it carefully so that no one could see.  _ My office after breakfast _ , it said.

Harry quickly folded the note and pocketed it again, sharing a glance with Hermione. McGonagall nodded and walked off, leaving them to finish their food.

“All eez well, I ‘ope?” Fleur asked lightly.

“It should be,” Harry assured her; though he had no real idea what the summons was for. He’d find out soon enough, though, and he tucked back into his breakfast with the intent of not being late. 

After he finished breakfast, he and Hermione excused themselves and went to McGonagall’s office. The second the door had opened and Harry and Hermione stepped in, they were engulfed in hugs. It took a moment for Harry to recognize that their parents and Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot were in McGonagall’s office. Harry immediately melted into his Mum’s arms.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” she murmured in his ear. “Sorry it’s a day late.”

“Happy Christmas, Mum,” Harry replied. “We didn’t expect to see you at all, late or not.”

“We can’t stay long,” George said while he was currently hugging Hermione. “But given what’s happening, we couldn’t not see you. Your mother’s been worried about you, Harry.” 

“We all have,” Remus added. “Though I did relay immediately that you were safe after the first task.”

“It’s okay, Mum,” Harry said quietly. “I’m fine. Hermione, Cedric and all our close friends have been helping me to prepare as best I can for the tournament. Cedric and Fleur even know I don’t want to participate, but they’re making me. They’ve promised to do what they can to make sure I survive, and to be honest… I’m not actually trying to win.”

“I’d like to talk to Viktor about that, too,” Hermione spoke up. “We talked a lot, last night. I know he’s been more aloof from us since the tournament started, but honestly I think he’s kind of shy and - much like you, Harry - doesn’t care for the attention that comes with fame. I think if we tell him what we told Fleur, that he’ll try to help you too.”

“I don’t want to take advantage,” Harry hedged. “I mean, I’m tied for first. I don’t want to use the help unless I need it.”

“So we can tell him that, too. Fleur as well, if you prefer,” Hermione replied. “But I think it would be better if everyone involved knows to be watchful for someone targeting you specifically.”

“Can we… can we not talk about it?” Harry said, frowning. “I’m tired of thinking about threats to my life. I just want to have a normal conversation for once. I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s Christmas and everyone’s here...”

“You’re allowed to feel frustrated, Harry. You’ve been working extremely hard,” Remus said. “How about we put a moratorium on any Tournament talk for the next little while and we can talk about happier things. Did you two have a good time at the Ball last night?”

Hermione looked a little miffed, but nodded. “Viktor was a complete gentleman. I may have had to stay with Fleur overnight because I got locked out of the castle.” She blushed. 

“We overlooked sounding the bell for curfew due to our attention on crowd control in the Great Hall and preventing students from wandering off,” McGonagall stated from a chair in the corner, causing Harry to jump. “Madame Maxime informed us before lights out where Miss Granger was.”

“I’m glad you have friends to take care of you,” Jean said, going over to Hermione’s side. “But in the future, please be mindful of the time.”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione said, giving her a hug.

“Missing curfew isn’t the worst mischief you could be up to,” Sirius teased. “Though you might be a little young to be out all night with a boy.”

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I stayed with Fleur, though if the girls hadn’t been outside their carriage when we passed by Viktor had offered to let me stay in his room while he went and shared a room with one of his friends. I told you, he was a perfect gentleman. Nothing  _ inappropriate _ would have happened.”

“Besides, Pads, you’re hardly one to throw stones. Or do I need to remind you where you were spending nights at fifteen?” Remus stepped in, winking at Hermione to diffuse her defensive tension.

“Where?” Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

“Nope, not here,” Sirius responded. “I’m sure Minnie has her suspicions, but I shan’t confirm them in her hearing.” He grinned, unabashed and playful.

“The professors of this school are neither ignorant nor blind,” Minerva said wryly. “That said, it is perhaps better for certain rumors to remain rumors and not facts.”

The discussion focused on Hermione for a good while, which helped Harry feel relieved, but eventually it returned to him. “Now, how about you Harry,” Jean said. “How was your date with Katie last night?”

“It was good. We’re going to Hogsmeade together the next time we have a weekend,” Harry said.

“There’s a rumor going around that Harry kissed her, but Harry won’t say whether he did,” Hermione blabbed, her tone slightly teasing.

“You  _ kissed _ her?” George teased. “Our ikle Harry is growing up.” Sirius and Remus were grinning. “Do I need to be giving you a talk about the birds and the bees?”

Harry blanched, eyes wide. “No! I mean, no, no talk, please. I did kiss her, yes, but just a soft kiss. And I bet I’m not the only one to have done any kissing last night, either,” he added, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

Hermione blushed prettily. “Just a brief kiss good night, though he did kiss the back of my hand a few times earlier in the evening. It was all very sweet.”

“Ah, Moony. Our cubs are growing up so fast…” Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh.

“That they are, Padfoot,” Remus agreed. “And as long as their boyfriend and girlfriend are polite, we won’t have to make trouble.”

George crossed his arms, his expression stern but a lighter glint in his eyes. “You both have permission if you wish to continue to date, but before anything becomes more serious than that I insist you bring them home to meet the family. Which, by the way, requires trusting them enough to tell them the whole truth.”

“Katie, Angelina and Alicia figured a lot of it out already,” Harry admitted ruefully. “We more confirmed the truth than told them anything.”

“Viktor doesn’t know all of it, but I did tell him some last night,” Hermione confessed. “He swore on his magic not to tell anyone else, and he told me about his own family in exchange. I promised not to share his family secrets, too, but he shared them with me first. I suppose you could say it was an exchange of trust.”

“If it becomes serious, tell them all of it,” George repeated. “It’s not wise to enter a relationship lying to your partner. Even lying by omission.”

“As much as I want to be cross that you told him anything, Kitten,” Remus said with a sigh, “I do trust your judgement. If you think Viktor is worth trusting, we’ll have to trust you. But your father is right, and you’ll have to tell him the whole truth eventually if you think your relationship will become serious.”

“Not that it has to,” Jean added. “You’re fourteen and fifteen respectively. You don’t have to fall in love with the first person you have some attraction to, and even if you do love them you don’t have to remain with them forever. You’re allowed to be young and enjoy yourselves, you know.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I just… Katie’s one of the few people who haven’t ever treated me like I’m famous and… I like her. It’s fun to hang out with her.”

Hermione nodded. “Viktor looks at me like I’m a girl,” she said softly. “Not a lot of guys look at me like I’m a girl, besides both of us like school and Viktor wants to to pursue further education, like I do. I’m not saying it’s going to get serious, I’m just… enjoying the attention.”

“Nothing wrong with that, either of you,” Sirius said supportively. “You know we’re all here for you, whatever choices you make. And in other news, we have a small surprise for you both.”

Harry perked up at the abrupt change of topic. “You do?”

Sirius handed them each a scroll, with a brightly colored bow to tie them closed. Harry opened his first, though Hermione moved over to look more closely as she assumed the other adults all knew. It was a certification from Gringotts, declaring all the accessible Potter properties to be pest-free, curse-free, clean and ready for occupancy whenever they were needed. The goblins also had notations regarding the value of the property and an itemization of the most valuable of the contents.

Harry beamed. “This is amazing. Thank you for getting this handled so quickly!”

Hermione opened her scroll next, holding it so Harry could see. Rather than from Gringotts, this one had been created by the Potter house-elves. It contained a summary of the books contained in the Potter library, sorted by which property they were kept at. A few of the more common books had copies in multiple locations, but there were some particularly rare texts noted and identified.

A squeal of excitement was followed by Hermione’s shocked voice as she skimmed the list. “We have  _ original printings _ of Victor Hugo, Jules Verne and George Sand? Collected works of Verlaine? Harry! Some of these are exceptionally rare or even thought lost!”

Harry laughed. “Then you can help me to evaluate what’s worth keeping private and what we might want to re-release back into the world via copy at some point,” he informed his sister.

“Happily!” she agreed instantaneously.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day. A time for family, friends, and food for most people. For Harry there's all of that, and a couple mysteries as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to go down. Lady Winterlight informs us all that we only have three and a half more weeks of chapters for Kinship and Peril. Any predictions? The Weasley Twins are taking bets.

The Granger family eventually left McGonagall’s office so she could get some work done. They relocated to an old teacher’s lounge on the 5th floor which had fallen out of use when the current staff room was updated. The furniture was old but well-maintained and comfortable, and only moments after they arrived a cheery fire flickered in the fireplace and a tray of tea and biscuits arrived on the low table.

They talked about how the school term had been, everything except the Tournament. Harry and Hermione did describe how they’d become friends with the visiting students, first from Beauxbatons and then from Durmstrang. Hermione enthused about the language group, and that she was slowly learning Bulgarian. Harry was pleased just how much more easily fluent his French was since he had been practicing for two months with native speakers, and how they’d even found a couple of people who spoke Latin among the French students to practice with.

Harry talked about the friends he’d made that year, even going flying several times with Viktor and Cedric. He talked less than he normally did, and the adults in his family all gave him worried looks, and honestly he was enjoying listening to everyone else talk.

“He looks like he hasn’t been getting much sleep,” he suddenly heard, realizing he’d dozed off.

“I’ve often wondered if we should just pull him out of school,” Jean murmured. “This might be too much stress for a fourteen year old.”

“He’d tell you he wouldn’t want you to,” Hermione offered in a low voice.

“Wouldn’t actually help right now. Bloody magical contract,” Remus grumbled. “He’s trapped in this, really and truly.”

“Something to keep in mind for the future, though,” George said firmly. “If other students are going to be in hiding and still have their educations seen to, Harry could join them. As could you, Hermione.”

“Honestly, if the situation here at the school grows more dangerous, we will take whatever steps we deem necessary,” Jean added. “And you will cooperate, young lady. If we decide it’s best for you to switch schools or learn via private tutors at home, you will cooperate.”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione responded; it was the only thing she could say when her parents spoke in  _ that _ tone.

Harry shifted and hummed. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess I drifted off.”

“It’s quite alright, son,” George said. “It’s Boxing Day. It’s the best day to doze and sleep off the Christmas Turkey. You were only asleep for a few minutes, besides.”

They passed the rest of the day that way, talking, eating, sleeping, and playing cards. Harry actually managed to put the Golden Egg from his mind until Sirius and Remus were telling a story about Remus falling off his broom and accidentally landing on the Giant Squid.

“He pissed off the merpeople something awful. He spurted so much ink I swear the lake was black for a week.”

Harry started, then whirled around to his godfather. “What?” he asked.

“The ink?” Sirius asked.

“No, other things are in the lake?” he asked.

“Sure, primarily merpeople live in the lake. Grindylows, too… various fish, I think,” Sirius supplied. “I swear I’ve seen a shark or two down there.”

“James used to swear up and down there was a Kelpie down there, but no one else has ever seen one.”

Harry looked at Hermione. “I think I know how to solve the clue… and I have an idea of what language is coming out of it.”

“You think it’s merpeople?” Hermione guessed.

“Something tells me Walt Disney got it wrong,” Jean muttered. “Based on your description of the shrieking.”

Hermione’s mind started working over the problem. “Sounds travel differently through the water than through the air. It’s actually really hard to understand someone who’s talking underwater, impossible in some languages. Merpeople are fully sentient; it’s entirely likely their language developed due to their medium and habitat, with less influence by magic than I’d originally thought…”

“Which would also mean that other parts of the Lake would affect their evolution,” Harry added thoughtfully. “Depending on the depth, and such. How dark it would be down there, and such. I’d need a way to breathe...”

“Perhaps you should find out if you’re right about the language and hear the clue before you start contingency planning?” Remus suggested with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Harry nodded, promising himself that he’d go get a bath in the prefect’s bath that night. “He takes after you, Moony,” Sirius jested.

“Or maybe me,” Jean said with a smile.

“Or me,” George said.

Sirius grew quiet, causing everyone’s smiles to fade a bit. “Are you okay Uncle Padfoot?” Hermione asked.

Sirius tried valiantly to smile, but ended up failing miserably. “I’m sorry for bringing the mood down. I just… I miss James,” Sirius admitted. “I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think of all this.”

Harry recalled in one of his parents’ letters to him, they’d mentioned that Sirius had finally started grieving for James and Lily, as he hadn’t been able to in Azkaban. He would sometimes suddenly get into a angsty mood about the fact that Jean and George were raising Harry. “Would you mind telling me a story?” Harry requested.

Sirius immediately lit up. “I know just what story to tell you. The Hogwarts Noodle Incident of ‘76.”

Remus groaned. “Do we have to tell that story?”

“Quiet, Moony,” Sirius said with a grin. Hermione high-fived Harry when Sirius wasn’t looking. It was quick thinking, distracting him and forcing him to think about the good times.

The end of Hogwarts’ dinner hour was approaching when a knock sounded at the door and Snape poked his head in. “My apologies for interrupting, but Minerva will not be able to run interference for much longer. I’m afraid it’s time for Harry and Hermione to rejoin the other students.”

Jean sighed quietly, but the others all nodded. Snape gave her a small smile of understanding.

“I believe your head of house explained your absence as extended studying for the Tournament with quiet access to the Restricted Section for the day,” Snape informed Harry before leaving.

“Something we may need anyway,” Hermione said when the door shut again. “But not tonight.”

Many hugs were exchanged before Harry and Hermione slipped out of the room and headed for Gryffindor Tower. Sirius and Remus would take their parents back to McGonagall’s office and to the Floo, and they’d eaten plenty that day with their family so neither minded skipping what was left of dinner. 

Not wanting to go to the library, they decided to spend the evening in Gryffindor tower, which is where their friends found them a half hour later after dinner concluded.

“Hey there strangers,” George said. “We’ve missed you all day!”

“Tried to go to the Restricted Section, but McGonagall closed it,” Fred continued.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” George added, smiling.

“Did you find the meaning of life?” Fred teased.

“Did you know that you complete me?” George shot back. Fred gave him a dirty look.

“Don’t let Angelina hear you say that to me, George,” Hermione teased back lightly. George sighed; the twins knew Hermione never had problems telling them apart, but they tried on occasion anyway.

“Also, less flirting with my sister while I’m standing right here, please,” Harry grumbled, though he smirked at Hermione when the twins weren’t looking so she’d know he didn’t really mind. At least, not overmuch.

“Hi Harry,” Katie said from behind the twins. Harry immediately blushed. 

“Ooo,” Fred said to Katie in a sing-song tone. “You made him turn red. I think he likes you.” Harry kicked Fred in the shins.

“Katie and Harry sitting in a tree,” George added. Angelina and Alicia, who had climbed into the common room behind a very pink Katie, joined in. “S-N-O-GG-I-N-G!”

“Oh Merlin,” Harry groaned.

“They’ve all been like this all day,” Katie explained, rolling her eyes.

“Ooo! Ooo!” Alicia said. “I’ve got one. “Viktor and Hermione sitting in a tree.” Angelina, Fred, and George joined in. “S-N-O-GG-I-N-G.”

Harry rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance at Hermione. Life at Hogwarts was never boring, but it was filled with love. Hermione smiled back at him and shrugged; she could handle some gentle teasing from their closest friends. The girls had been nothing but friendly and supportive the day before, when she’d needed help to get ready for the ball. She could take some joking around after the fact.

“You two aren’t the only ones who ‘paired up’ during the Ball. There are a lot of people who are suddenly dating,” George explained. He then grimaced. “Though, Hermione, you should be warned that some of the girls who don’t have boyfriends are a bit… envious. Come to that, some of the girls who  _ do _ have boyfriends are envious too.”

Hermione shrugged. “I assumed there would be some of those.” She smiled softly for a moment. “I’m content knowing none of them know him as well as I do, and I look forward to knowing him better still if we continue to date. You might be surprised to hear it, but he likes the fuss of fame about as much as Harry does.”

“I’m starting to sense a trend that maybe fame isn’t as nice as it looks,” Alicia said. 

“It’s really not,” Harry said quietly. “Think about what ‘everyone knows’ about Harry Potter, and then consider how much of it matches the truth. So many people make assumptions based on what they  _ think _ is true, when often they’re very wrong.”

“You’re right,” Angelina agreed, Alicia nodding as well. “Your ‘public’ profile is completely different than the truth. And now that we’ve gotten to know you, it makes us realize that the whole ‘Harry Potter Day’ thing is kinda disgusting.”

“Mum used to celebrate it,” Fred said quietly. “Of course she stopped when she actually  _ met _ you. I think she thinks of you as extended family by this point. Speaking of,” he turned to Katie. “What are your intentions towards our Harry?”

Katie went pink. “I don’t know?” She questioned nervously. “We just… like each other. Does it really have to be anything more?”

“It doesn’t, unless you both decide you want it to,” Hermione broke in, forestalling the twins. “As long as you’re honest with each other, the rest will work itself out.” Then she smiled wryly. “Just be prepared to see your name in the paper, and possibly have reporters speculating on your virtue or lack thereof.”

“I like that first part,” Katie said. “The papers can shove off.”

They spent a good two hours playing Exploding Snap before Harry faked a yawn. “I think I’m going to call it an early night,” Harry said. “It’s been a long couple of days.” 

“Night Harry,” the group said. Most of them barely paying attention. He’d chosen just the right moment, when the current round was getting a little heated. Hermione looked up from her book and they shared a look, then he went up to the sixth year dorms, put on his invisibility cloak and snuck his golden egg out of the tower using the Marauder’s Map, headed towards the Prefects’ bathroom. He gave a passing thought to how much he’d grown since being adopted by the Grangers. First year he’d been so small the cloak could fit him along with both his friends, and now he was willing to bet it would barely fit him with Hermione. 

After giving the password McGonagall had provided, Harry entered to see a bath the size of a pool with a series of taps, a stack of towels and various shower supplies set along one wall, and a stained glass window of a mermaid. Immediately, as to not waste time and be out too far past curfew, Harry turned on the taps, ensuring that it was warm enough to swim in and reminding himself to practice warming charms before the Second Task. He didn’t relish the thought of swimming in the Great Lake in February.

He had the forethought to bring a biro and a spare bit of parchment, so he decided to write out the poem that the egg sang to him under the water. It took him a few tries to get the whole thing. Obviously the first couplet was instructions on where he was supposed to go. Merpeople were in the Great Lake, so he was supposed to go under the water. The next couplet gave him a lot of concern. ‘We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss.’ He decided to go back to that. The last two couplets established that there was a time constraint on what he was supposed to do. He had one hour, then he’d lose whatever the Merpeople took.

Harry went back to the line that concerned him the most. What could be taken that he’d miss? He didn’t really  _ own _ anything of value, except for his Firebolt, and that was easily replaced, though expensive. His heart suddenly clenched. His family. They were irreplaceable. They wouldn’t take the Grangers or Hermione, would they? Harry took a moment to try to remember to breathe. Dumbledore and the tournament officials didn’t know about his family. But they did know about Hermione… they wouldn’t  _ kill _ someone if a contestant failed a task, would they?

He was pretty sure they wouldn’t. The Tournament was only supposed to be potentially deadly for champions, not for bystanders. And after the Basilisk issue and the Dementors the year prior, he wasn’t sure how much more negative press Hogwarts could handle, even under the guise of the Tournament. The threat was probably just meant to be motivation.

He hoped.

Harry suddenly sat up, realizing that he had accidentally shut his eyes and drifted off in the warmth of the tub, his head having lain next to the parchment. He realized it had gotten pretty late. He got out of the tub, dried off and dressed, then grabbed the parchment and pocketed it before setting back towards the tower. With the egg in one hand and the map in the other, Harry froze when he saw an impossible name for the second time in his life. Barty Crouch Jr. was currently in a room next to a small dot that said Alastor Moody. 

Harry wasn’t completely sure what to do. It was now well past midnight and everyone was in bed. He could wake up McGonagall, but how could he be sure that she’d believe him. He’d have to explain the Map, and convincing her that the Map never lied when he didn’t create it and wasn’t sure about the magic that may have been involved in creating it would likely be a tough sell. He stared at the two dots. They weren’t moving, as if they were both asleep. Could this be some sort of trick? He recalled a conversation he’d had with Uncle Padfoot about the map in the early days of their relationship.

_ “Pettigrew was actually the person who did all the identifier spells for the map,” _ Sirius said. _ “He was pretty gifted at that sort of thing. He wasn’t nearly the tag along that most people remember him to be. He had a talent for tracking people, magically. In all my life, there are few things I’ve ever been sure of, but one of those things is that the Map never lies.” _

There was always a first time for everything. So Harry decided to wait until morning, when he could get more than one person to figure out why the map was saying that Barty Crouch Jr. was at Hogwarts when he was supposed to be dead. 

Harry didn’t sleep much that night. He drifted in and out, keeping the map activated and waking every so often to confirm that Barty Crouch Jr. was still on the map. He was there, each and every time. Eventually Harry drifted off and dozed until the morning sun shining through a gap in his curtains woke him. He checked the Map again reflexively, and this time Crouch Jr was moving. Moody remained in one place, though. Perhaps the former auror liked to sleep in?

But would a man as patently paranoid as Moody be able to sleep that soundly with a convicted criminal and Death Eater in the room? It just didn’t make any sense, and he decided he’d ask Hermione for her thoughts before taking the Map to a teacher. Maybe together they could puzzle out something.

Harry went to the common room and waited for Hermione, still keeping an eye on Crouch. Harry’s suspicion grew when he watched as Crouch took a seat at the staff table in the Great Hall. Harry folded part of the parchment back to check on Moody. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice called him. “Harry, are you alright? How was last night?”

Harry looked up at Hermione. The night before had seemed so long ago. “Hermione, didn’t Uncle Padfoot say that Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban thirteen years ago?” he asked.

Hermione stiffened. “What are you saying, Harry?”

“Look,” he said, offering her the Map.

Hermione took the parchment, studying it intently. Harry silently flipped the pages until it displayed Alastor Moody, motionless in the room assigned to the DADA professor. Eyes going wide, Hermione whispered, “The Map doesn’t lie.” She looked up to meet Harry’s gaze. “We should go down to breakfast and see who’s in the Great Hall. And then show this to someone; Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape, preferably.”

“Let’s… go down for breakfast and see,” Harry said. “The important thing is to make sure no one gets hurt. Maybe we could use the coins?”

“That’s a good idea,” Hermione agreed. “Though if we keep doing things like this, we’re either going to eventually have to admit the Map’s existence or come up with a better cover than accidental discovery.”

“I trust Snape and McGonagall,” Harry said with a shrug. “I don’t think they’d share the Map’s existence to anyone else.”

“Are you sure? They may want to see it,” Hermione warned.

Harry nodded. “Uncle Moony covered for us last year, but I think this time… we have to share how we figured it out. I was planning on showing them the Map anyway.”

“That’s fair,” Hermione agreed. “Come on, then. Let’s get down to breakfast and see what we can see.” She checked the Map again and saw Professor McGonagall seated in her usual place at the teacher’s table, just a few chairs down from Crouch Jr. If she were able to check her coin discreetly, perhaps they would have another visual confirmation.

Harry was pretty tense by the time they entered the Great Hall. He nearly froze when he spotted who was sitting in the spot labeled as Crouch Jr. - Professor Moody. Hermione tugged him forward towards their seats at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat next to her as she started making breakfast sandwiches using toast, eggs, cheese, and bacon. She cut one of the sandwiches in half and shoved one half in Harry’s face. “Eat,” she demanded.

Knowing better than to argue when she had that particular look on her face, Harry accepted the sandwich and took a bite mechanically. He surprised himself by wolfing down the first half and accepted a second one with better grace. “Would you make another to split, please?” he asked, finally realizing that her motion would be an easy cover for him to use his coin. He fixed her a cup of tea and set it by her plate when she nodded and and asked Dean to pass the toast.

While she reached for items and built them another sandwich, Harry palmed his coin under the table. He made sure his message was only going to the Professors and then whispered the incantation to send it.  _ The Moody at the table is an impostor. Have evidence like with PP. - Apollo _

It wasn’t much of a message, but hopefully would be a sufficient warning. The coins were definitely limited. Hermione had hopes of being able to link journals or something similar, but she’d gotten stuck trying to figure out how to work around the existing enchantments for never-ending pages and privacy protections.

Snape had looked down then immediately stiffened, gaining the look on his face Harry recognized as Snape thinking hard. McGonagall was talking with Dumbledore and Madame Maxime and couldn’t look at her coin, but after a moment, Snape gave her a look. He then glanced at Harry and Hermione. Harry was surprised to feel his coin heat up when he had barely seen Snape move.  _ AA Room. Now. - Hades _

Seeing the message, Hermione bundled the sandwiches she’d made into a napkin, tucked it into the top of her bag, and the pair quickly made their excuses to their friends at the table. She wished for a second cup of tea, but maybe they could ask the house elves for some later. Harry downed the last of his own cup and led the way out of the Great Hall. They made for the Library immediately; fortunately, that wasn’t the least bit suspicious. They spent an awful lot of time in the Library, even on holidays.

Snape stormed in looking decidedly fearful. “What do you mean Moody’s an imposter?” he demanded.

Harry sighed. “It’s a bit complicated. Last night I was working on my clue for the second task and… hypothetically I may fallen asleep, so when I woke up, it was way past curfew, past midnight even. My father… my father and his friends made a map of Hogwarts, that shows everyone in it. It’s how we found out about Pettigrew. Last night, I was using the Map to get back to the Tower and I saw something odd.” Harry took out the Map and showed Snape Moody’s dot in the Defense office, then showed him the Great Hall.

Snape stared at the Map in shock. “That’s not possible…” he breathed.

“People said the same thing about Pettigrew,” Hermione offered softly. “But one thing both Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius have stated, adamantly, is that the Map doesn’t lie. It sees past animagus transformations, transfiguration and I think even disillusionment.”

Snape frowned, then drew himself up. “You both  _ stay here _ . I will uncover the truth of this and alert the proper authorities.”

Waiting was always so hard. It was easy, sometimes, to forget that he wasn’t an adult. His parents treated him like an adult most of the time, and his professors seemed to acknowledge the fact that Harry had been forced into danger time and again and met it with more bravery than most kids his age were expected to have. More specifically, waiting meant sending people he cared about into danger and not being allowed to help them. 

Hermione was also quietly fretting, unable to concentrate on a book or anything else. So she cast her mind around for a way to distract herself and Harry both. Then she remembered something that had come up once, but only briefly. “Harry?”

“Yeah, Hermione?”

“You remember when we kinda briefly discussed bringing a couple of other students in to help support the AA?” She waited until he focused his attention on her fully and then nodded. “What about Fred and George?”

Harry blinked. Then blinked again. And then really gave it a moment’s thought. “You know… it’s not as crazy an idea as it sounds like right off…”

“They’re quite silly, I know,” Hermione agreed, smiling a little. “But they mostly do it because they want to make people smile. They’re quite good at listening when they need to be, and we know perfectly well they can keep a secret.”

“And they do already know about us, most of it at least. Plus they know about the Map,” Harry mused thoughtfully. “They don’t know we’re friends with Slytherins. We might want to… warn them about that, for lack of better wording, considering the Quidditch rivalry.”

“Yes, I suppose that wouldn’t be the best surprise to spring on them,” Hermione chuckled. “But I think they know that there are things more important than Quidditch.”

Harry smiled, then grew serious. “Hermione, I figured out the clue last night, for the second task.”

“I guess it was a busy night for you than,” Hermione acknowledged. “Are you going to tell me?”

Harry opened his mouth, then hesitated. “They’re going to take what’s most precious to me,” he explained. “And I’m going to have an hour to get it back.”

Hermione studied her brother’s serious expression for a long moment, considering the implications. Harry was not materialistic, in itself. He had very few  _ things _ he considered precious. He’d had so little of his own when he was young that having  _ stuff _ didn’t really matter to him, with only a few exceptions. His Firebolt. His birth parents’ wedding album. The Invisibility Cloak, though she didn’t think Dumbledore would spill that particular secret.

What mattered most to him was their family. But the Tournament officials didn’t know about them. Except…

“You think they’re going to take me,” she concluded quietly. “Of the possible options at school, you think I’m it.” Harry nodded and Hermione took a deep breath. “Tournament guests and non-participating students aren’t supposed to be harmed during the Tournament. You’re supposed to have to enter in order to be at risk. Therefore, even if they do take me I should be safe.”

“You’re taking this way too calmly,” Harry grumbled. “You’re not even the least bit afraid of being at the bottom of the Lake somehow? Or being stuck there if I don’t get to you in an hour?”

She sent him a cheeky grin and a wink. “You’ve saved me before. You’ll save me again. I have faith in you, Harry.”

Harry looked down at his hands, frowning. “What if you’re wrong? What if I’m not the hero everyone says I am? What if I’m just getting lucky?”

With a soft sigh, she stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. “Harry Potter, you are the most pig-headed, sophomoric, loyal person I know,” she declared.

“Uh,” Harry hesitated. “Thanks?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not wrong. You won’t let anything happen to me, just like I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. It will be all right, Harry. You’ll see.”

“You should be scared,” Harry whispered as he hugged her tightly.

“Why? Panicking wouldn’t help either of us,” she reasoned. “And besides, if something happened to student bystanders in the tournament, Professor McGonagall would enlist Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony in tearing the officials to shreds. Professor Snape would probably help make sure they don’t get caught.”

That, at least, got a smile from him. Before he could comment further, though, the door opened to let Blaise and Luna into their private space. “Oh! Are we interrupting hugs time?” Luna asked airily.

“Harry’s just a little stressed about the tournament,” Hermione said, leaving it up to him how much he wanted to share with the others. “Besides, Christmas holidays are family time. Hugs for all, as needed.”

“You missed all the action outside,” Blaise said, even as he came to collect a hug from Hermione for himself. “Moody got into a fight with McGonagall. An actual duel. I’m suddenly really grateful she knows about us and she’s on our side; that witch is scary!”

“Why would they get into a duel?” Harry asked with a straight face. 

Blaise shrugged. “Merlin knows, man. McGonagall knocked Moody unconscious just as Dumbledore showed up. They spoke for a minute, then they took Moody with them, I assume to the Hospital Wing. Most of the school was still at breakfast.”

“Things are not what they appear to be,” Luna said airily.

“And Luna started to get a little weird,” Blaise added. “Weirder than usual.”

“Harry and Hermione know something they’re not telling us. It’s on their Map,” Luna sing-songed.

It was only then that Harry realized that he’d forgotten to wipe the Map. Blaise’s gaze immediately went over to it. Harry didn’t even have time to try to hide the parchment.

“What the hell is this?” Blaise asked. “Bloody hell, you can see the whole school and everyone in it. Hermione, did you make this? Is this some sort of a simulation?”

“It’s live, actually,” Hermione clarified.

“It’s a really good bit of magic,” Blaise said, folding back the paper to reveal different floors.

“I didn’t do it,” Hermione whispered.

“Harry then?” Blaise asked. “Wait… who’re Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?” he read off.

“Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter,” Harry finally said quietly. “This was their map, when they were at school. They passed it along when they graduated and last year it got put into my hands.”

“That’s amazing,” Blaise grinned. “So you noticed something off about Moody and told McGonagall?”

“ _ Professor _ McGonagall took action after Professor Snape confirmed what we’d seen,” Hermione admitted, stressing the respectful title as was her habit. “The man at breakfast wasn’t showing up as Professor Moody on the map. Professor Moody hasn’t left his chambers all morning.”

“Who was he?” Blaise asked.

“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Luna read off from the map.

“Melody’s brother?” Blaise asked, shocked. “Didn’t she say he was dead?”

Harry shrugged. “The only thing Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony would tell me definitively was that the Map doesn’t lie.” 

“This is how you found Pettigrew last year, isn’t it?” Luna asked after a moment’s thought.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted reluctantly. “Almost by accident, really. Right place, right time.”

“Makes me wonder why the professors don’t have something like this. Or at least the Headmaster and maybe the House Heads,” Blaise mused. “It would make security so much simpler.”

“Probably because having one would make it impossible to turn a blind eye to activities they want to officially ignore,” Hermione suggested. “I mean, this room isn’t on the map, so we basically disappear from it whenever we’re here. The Chamber of Secrets isn’t on it, either, or at least not that we’ve found. And honestly, while I could see something like this being used in Azkaban or someplace where they need to monitor people 24/7, for students who haven’t done anything wrong it’s something of an invasion of privacy. I mean, would you want any teacher to know you’d made a trip to the Prefect’s bath when you felt like it? Or that you were in the shower?”

“That is… a little disturbing, yes,” Blaise agreed. Hermione shrugged in a ‘there you go’ sort of response, and he nodded.

“How have you kept it hidden for so long?” Luna asked.

“You have to know the password to open it up,” Harry explained. He tapped the parchment with his wand and whispered, “Mischief managed.” Then he handed Luna the blank parchment.

Luna turned the page over, examining it from every angle. Blaise, Hermione and Harry watched with interest as she frowned in concentration. Finally, she spread the paper back out again and tapped it with her wand like Harry had. “ _ Revelare, _ ” she intoned, and the siblings recognized true Latin as opposed to some of the other incantations they’d been taught.

_ No _ , the map wrote out. Harry recognized Sirius’ handwriting.

_ Mr. Moony apologizes for Mr. Padfoot, however we do not reveal our secrets to just anyone. _

_ Mr. Prongs wonders if Pandia can  _ **_see_ ** _ our secrets, as she sees so much already. _

_ Mr. Padfoot doesn’t think we should show Pandia anything. Why should we trust her? _

_ Mr. Prongs points out that she is the Daughter of Chaos, though she isn’t a proper Marauder child. _

_ Mr. Padfoot insists that chaos must be constructive. Perhaps someday she will learn the proper vow and they will share with her then. _

As the text faded from the page, Hermione giggled, and Harry smiled fondly. He loved these glimpses of his father and uncles when they were young and playful. Not that Sirius still wasn’t at times, but the personality images in the parchment were just so… carefree.

Hermione tapped the parchment with her wand, though she didn’t say anything. She only got a brief response, but it always made her smile when it happened.

_ The Marauders send their love to Miss Kitten, as they know full well she’s able to access the Map whenever she wishes. Extra hugs from Mr. Prongs. _

The map charms were more talkative when one actually addressed them, but they tended to respond to herself and Harry regardless.

“They’re quite clever, Harry,” Luna said in approval. “I like it.”

“Like what?” Theo asked as he and Draco entered just in time to hear Luna’s comment.

“Took you two long enough,” Blaise teased his housemates. He’d finished breakfast while they were still eating.

“We stayed to see if any of the professors would come back before the end of breakfast,” Theo explained with a shrug. “They didn’t. But I brought more tea for Harry and Hermione, since they left so quickly,” he added, holding out his broomstick water-bottle towards the pair. “A little sugar and a dash of cream; a compromise so you can share.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Theo!” Hermione exclaimed, taking the bottle from him. They still hadn’t worked up to hugs for him, but she touched his hand briefly in thanks. He smiled back at her.

“Here,” Luna said, pulling a pair of tiny mugs out of her book bag. She tapped them with her wand and they grew to normal size. Hermione poured the tea and handed one to Harry.

“Sweet caffeine,” Harry murmured, sinking into his chair and taking a long swallow.

Everyone except Hermione gave him puzzled looks.

Hermione noticed the confusion first. “Oh, my god! We have  _ got _ to sit you all down with a basic chemistry book! You really don’t know what caffeine is?”

“I expect we’re about to,” Theo commented dryly.

“Caffeine is the component of tea or coffee that helps you wake up, feel more energized and alert,” Hermione huffed. “There’s a smaller amount in chocolate or hot cocoa, and in the muggle world you can also get it from cold beverages collectively called ‘soda’ though there are many different varieties, flavors and brands. We don’t drink much soda, though; too much sugar is bad for your teeth, and there’s a lot of sugar in a soda.”

“Caffeine will also keep you awake at night,” Harry added. “Though I’ve noticed the tea served at dinner is either a weaker brew or a different variety, so I expect that’s being controlled for us.”

Draco and Theo exchanged a glance. “How do we not know these things?” Draco asked. “Honestly, there’s been tea at breakfast for as long as I can remember, but no one has ever even mentioned caffeine.”

“Historically, people began to drink tea because of how it made them feel. It wasn’t until more recently that the components were analyzed to determine why it does what it does,” Hermione explained with a sigh. “Remember how we were all handed chocolate after a Dementor attack? It helps to mitigate the effects, and you can accept that without knowing why. Just that in the last hundred years or so, more people started to wonder about the why of things and studied until they figured it out.”

“I think because muggles don’t have magic, they’re more curious about how things work, which leads to inventions like electricity and how they know chemical breakdowns of things,” Harry added. “It’d be like… someone wondering where magic comes from, but for every aspect of our lives.”

“Great,” Theo deadpanned. “I’m never going to get that out of my head.”

“What won’t you get out of your head?” Neville asked.

“Wondering where magic comes from.” Theo sighed.

“I’ve often wondered about that,” Hermione agreed. “I know that Arithmancy can be used to figure out whether or not something will work, magically, but I’ve yet to see anything that defines why or why not. I had hoped perhaps it was just at a higher level of study.”

“It might, for some things,” Luna informed her. “But I don’t think anyone has ever really figured out where magic comes from. Why some people are magical and some aren’t, or why some magical families can have non-magical children while other children are born to families that have never had a connection to magic previously.”

“It’s almost as if magic has a will of its own,” Harry agreed. “It doesn’t always make sense, just that it does what it does.”

Hermione made a face, but didn’t argue the point. It  _ should _ make sense, but if it did it wasn’t the sort of sense anyone had yet to figure out to the best of her knowledge. “To quote, ‘magic is just science that we don’t understand yet’,” Hermione said.

“Who said that?” Luna asked.

“Arthur C. Clark,” Hermione said airily. “He’s a science fiction author.”

“What’s that?” Theo asked.

“Science fiction is a genre of writing that focuses on what science could do if we get more advanced. It’s not anything we’re capable of yet, but it’s based generally on real science and extrapolating what could happen if we were sufficiently advanced,” Hermione explained. “In 1969, humans first made a trip to the moon. In some science fiction, humans travel the galaxy in space-going vessels. My mum really loves to watch Star Trek, which is a show on the telly about humans exploring space, meeting other races and cultures, that sort of thing.”

Neville, Luna, and Theo all stared at her. “It’s a little weird to think that muggles have this whole world that’s so close to us, but also so far away,” Neville said. “Anyway, I came here assuming you guys would be here working on tournament stuff after you were locked in the restricted section all day yesterday. Harry, have you made any progress?”

“I figured out that the clue is in Mermish, and I had to take the egg underwater to understand it,” he offered. “I need to figure out how to spend an hour underwater. In the lake. In February.”

“Which also means not freezing to death, as well as breathing properly,” Draco commented. “How brilliant of them,” he added, his tone laden with sarcasm.

“There are a couple of charms that will let you breathe anywhere,” Theo offered. “We can look them up and see how hard it would be to learn one.”

“Warming charms aren’t hard, but I have no idea if they’ll last - or even work - underwater,” Blaise commented. “There might be a better option for that, too, though.”

“We might be able to find something for divers that does both,” Luna suggested. “I mean, someone had to spend enough time in the water to learn Mermish and Selkie and other languages. That suggests there must be a way to safely be a guest of those peoples.”

“Maybe light too?” Neville added. “It’s going to be dark down there. Let me do some research on the creatures in Hogwarts lake too. I’m sure there’s information around here that’ll give us everything we need to safeguard. A simple heating charm may attract grindylows that I  _ know _ are in the water.”

“Would someone perhaps have created a diving spell that incorporates protection from the environment and living hazards?” Hermione asked. “Even if it’s a complex spell, it might be more efficient to try to learn than to master several spells for breathing, warmth and protection.”

“We can certainly look,” Theo said. “There are enough of us, I think. How about Luna and Neville on creatures, Harry, Blaise and Draco on single spells or charms to do what we need, and Hermione and I on whether or not a more comprehensive charm exists?”

Harry gave Theo a small smile, far more used to Hermione taking over and issuing directions, especially about study. But it made sense, and really when it came down to it, Theo and Hermione had a lot of personality traits in common. He shouldn’t be surprised by the turn of events.

And honestly, it was wonderful to have so many friends trying to help.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to our lovely readers and reviewers. We always love to hear from you!
> 
> Also, thanks to you, "Secrets and Truths" won 2nd Place in the Marauder Medals! There's a new banner up in the first chapter of that story, if you're curious. So again, many thanks to everyone who voted and supported us!

**Chapter 9**

The next few owl posts were rather chaotic. Every time the _Prophet_ was delivered, there was more news about the Crouch family. All the members of the AA wrote to Melody, offering their support during what they were sure was a difficult time. Apparently, Barty Crouch Senior had been holding his son under Imperius for the last thirteen years. Having just experienced it, all the fourth years felt pangs of sympathy for Crouch Junior, even Neville. “I might want to kill him for what he did to my parents,” Neville said bluntly during the AA meeting. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sympathy for what he went through.”

The _Prophet_ reported that, after so many years, Crouch Junior had fought off the curse and Imperiused his father into altering the cup so that Crouch Junior could enter Harry. Rumor was that Crouch Junior had gone on a huge rant about wanting revenge upon Harry Potter for what the teen had cost Voldemort, but no one would confirm it. Junior was now back in Azkaban while Crouch Senior was staying in Ministry cells pending his trial. In desperate need to put the scandal to bed, Fudge elected to promote Arthur Weasley as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Before Harry knew it, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the new year had arrived. Contrary to the previous year when everyone in their year went to Hogsmeade in groups, everyone seemed to be paired up. Maybe it was due to the Yule Ball, or maybe it was just because Harry was happily enjoying spending time with Katie that he was noticing other couples. He’d asked his Mum and Dad for advice and they delivered. His Dad in particular gave him advice he took to heart. _The best gift you can ever give a girl you like is your time_ , George had said. So that’s what Harry did. They studied together in the library, played Gobstones and Exploding Snap and Wizards Chess, and sometimes they just went on long walks together. Harry had taken his Mum’s advice when she had told him, _Never fix a woman’s problems unless she asks for help. Sometimes all a woman needs is for a man to listen._

So Harry did just that, falling into the practice of listening to Katie anytime she needed to vent.

“You’re not going tell me what to do?” Katie asked him once.

“I can tell you what I think you should do, if you’d like,” Harry shrugged. “But I like to think you can work out your own problems and you just need someone to listen, or a shoulder or whatever.”

Katie kissed him. “You’re one of a kind, Harry James Potter,” she said with a mysterious smile. Harry blushed furiously.

Harry, Katie, Hermione, and Viktor had decided to make the Hogsmeade trip together. After both Katie and Hermione rejected the idea of going to Madame Puddifoot’s, to Harry and Viktor’s extreme relief, they split their morning between Splintwitches, Tomes and Scrolls, and Honeydukes. Snowy, cold, and hungry, they eagerly then went over to the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

With hot stew and butterbeer to warm them up, each couple took a bench on the booth. They hung their wet cloaks up to dry, and Viktor tucked Hermione against his side to help warm her. She gave him a bright smile and held his hand while they ate. Katie and Harry sat further apart, but that didn’t keep them from sharing warm looks and clasped hands on the seat between them.

The four chatted idly about school work and favorite subjects. Harry and Katie went off on a Quidditch tangent for a little while, until they realized Viktor had stopped responding. Instead, Viktor and Hermione held their own quiet discussion until the group topic returned to something Hermione had an interest in as well.

Harry realized in that moment just how much attention Viktor paid to his sister. He knew she wasn’t a fan of Quidditch and tended to tune out when the sport became a topic of conversation, but Harry enjoyed Quidditch and didn’t often let her inattention stop him from talking about it. Harry came to two conclusions, watching Viktor and Hermione. First was how rude his habit was, and second, seeing Viktor’s attentiveness and quiet determination to keep her involved, Harry realized how great a match for her the quiet athlete was.

For herself, Hermione had already concluded that she very much enjoyed being the center of Viktor’s attention. He made every effort to make sure she wasn’t left out or bored by the current topic of conversation. They didn’t stop Katie and Harry from enjoying their Quidditch chatter, he just very quietly engaged her on a different topic until the other couple ran out of steam or realized they were only talking to each other.

After the second time Quidditch came up, Hermione spoke up, “I think we’ll leave you two to enjoy your sports discussion. A little alone time would probably be welcome anyway. Shall we meet in an hour or two, for the walk back up to the castle?”

“Sure, Hermione,” Katie accepted while Harry was dithering on whether to leave his sister alone with her boyfriend or not - not because he thought Viktor would do anything ungentlemanly, but because Hermione’s life was in danger due to her association with Harry. “An hour should be plenty of time to ourselves, and then we don’t have to hurry back but can take our time.”

“Vould you like to valk again?” Viktor asked Hermione. When she nodded, he retrieved her cloak, cast a quick charm to finish the drying process, and held it out for her to slip into. Once he’d donned his own cloak, he offered his arm and they made their way out of the crowded pub.

They walked away from the main path of the village and towards the outskirts. Hermione stared at the Shrieking Shack when they arrived at it, having heard about it from Uncle Moony. “They say it’s haunted, you know?” she said in answer to his querying look. “It’s called the Shrieking Shack.”

“Is it actually haunted?” Viktor asked curiously.

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Hermione answered him honestly. “Did you know that muggles believe in ghosts?”

“Niet,” Viktor responded, looking curiously at her.

“It’s mostly not true,” Hermione explained. “What muggles think of as ghosts is actually old houses, old pipes, and the like.”

“Ah, yes, because they cannot use house quieting spells,” Viktor nodded. “I understand. My grandmother’s house was like this vhen I vas a boy.”

“My house used to do that. Now I live in a house that’s half-muggle, half-magic.”

“Because Sirius Black is there?” Hermione stared at him. “It is not hard to figure out,” Viktor said slowly. “He is vell known as Harry’s godfather. And he has been seen vith you many times. I do not believe he vould be content to visit, but you do not tense vhen he is mentioned.”

“He does live with us,” Hermione confirmed. “So does Harry’s other uncle, Remus. At first Sirius needed a safe place to stay after Azkaban and then…”

“They became family,” Viktor concluded.

“There’s more…” Hermione continued. “I told you at the Yule Ball that my parents adopted Harry, but Harry and I also blood bonded, just so we can be sure that they won’t take Harry away.”

“So… so you are half-blood?” Viktor asked. He then blushed. “I do not care…”

“I am, technically,” Hermione said with a secretive smile.

“You are far more interesting than you seem, Her-my-ni Granger.”

Her smile grew wider. “Thank you. You’re taking this better than I expected, honestly.”

He shrugged. “I do not think anything could make me care less for you,” he offered quietly, tucking a wayward curl back into her hood. “Blood brother. Magical extension to muggle house. Magical uncle from dark family. All just pieces of vhat makes you, you.”

“I suppose my family is just a bit stranger than normal,” Hermione conceded.

“Just means need strong vizard to accept t’em all,” Viktor replied. “Am villing to try, if you vish.”

Hermione stood on her toes lifting her chin until her lips just brushed his. “I’d like that,” she whispered, then kissed him a little shyly.

“Thank you for seeing, my Her-my-o-nee,” Viktor said, saying it correctly for the first time. “Not even my parents see me.” He hesitated. “You… challenge me.”

“I’m… not used to people appreciating that about me,” she said quietly. “But you’re welcome. And thank you, too. For seeing me, and valuing what I am instead of what people think I should be.”

“Does Harry not see you?” Viktor asked, frowning.

Hermione grew stiff. “He does,” she said carefully, attempting to keep her emotions in check. “But he’s my little brother. And, well, he’s come close to dying a few times over the years.”

“You are vorried?” Viktor added.

Hermione nodded. “Wouldn’t you be? Someone entered him in this Tournament, and the only reason I can think of for someone to go to the trouble is if they want him to have an ‘accident’ and die.”

Viktor frowned. “The tournament is not meant to kill…”

“But it’s a possibility that it _could_ happen. The tournament wasn’t meant to have underage students participating, either,” Hermione pointed out. “You’ll be graduating this year. We still have three more years of school after this. Harry’s fourteen years old and he’s come close to dying three separate times. Each time getting closer to it. It’s not unfounded for me to worry that I might - I might lose him.”

Viktor wrapped Hermione in a hug so her entire front half was engulfed. For the briefest of moments, she felt the desire for there to be someone to help Viktor with this, then she melted into embracing what was there.

“How can I help vorry be less?” Viktor asked quietly. “Vould do anything you asked.”

“I don’t want to make requests that might cause you problems or go against your conscience,” Hermione demurred.

“It vill be no problem,” Viktor said soothingly. “And this is vhat partners do. They are there for each other. I am villing to help.”

Hermione’s brain always worked rather quickly, so for a scant few seconds she tried to figure out who Viktor’s ‘victim’ would be, given his recent declarations. What if they were wrong, and she was going to be Viktor’s ‘treasure’? Hermione supposed Katie would mostly likely be Harry’s, Gabrielle would be Fleur’s. She wasn’t too sure about Cedric’s ‘treasure’, but she _was_ sure that Harry wouldn’t leave anyone without a guarantee that everyone would be returned to the surface safely.

“I don’t want anyone to die in this competition,” she whispered. “Not you, not Harry, not anyone. Just… be careful, please? And if you see anyone targeting Harry specifically… maybe help my brother not get killed?”

Viktor pulled back enough to meet Hermione’s eyes. “If you and I vork out together, vill be my brother also, da?” Hermione nodded. “Vill keep brother safe. Alvays keep family safe.”

Her eyes filled with tears, touched beyond words that he would make promises to keep her family safe on the chance that they would someday be his family too. “Thank you. Watch your own back as well, though.” She tried to lighten the mood, teasing, “I will not be happy if you get yourself hurt or killed in the process.”

Viktor chuckled, more from her tone than her words. “Vill alvays do best to come back to you.”

They resumed their walk as the conversation turned to lighter topics. Not long after, their hour was up and it was time to meet Harry and Katie. The quartet made the walk back to the castle at a leisurely pace, arriving back just shortly before the deadline. Viktor insisted on walking with the three Gryffindors back to their Tower, not yet ready to say goodbye to Hermione for the day.

They talked easily about classes they took and the electives offered at Hogwarts and Durmstrang respectfully. Viktor confirmed the Hogwarts rumor that Durmstrang had a class called ‘Dark Arts’ and did learn spells that many truly light-oriented folk would likely never consider using. But they also learned about the potential costs of using dark magic regularly, and the ethics involved in judging whether the result was worth the cost.

A witch or wizard didn’t have to use the Killing Curse to kill, Hermione knew that. A properly placed Reductor Curse could kill, as well. If you leg-lock jinxed someone heading for the stairs, the resulting fall could kill them. Stunning someone walking across a muggle street could also get them killed by a car. Harry could’ve died first year, when Quirrell jinxed his broom during the Quidditch match. It really was as much about intent as whether the spell was light or dark.

So Hermione shared her thoughts with Viktor, reassuring him of her understanding that just knowing spells labeled as Dark did not make him evil. She definitely knew better than _that._ Viktor smiled in return, pleased by her non-judgemental attitude.

“Cruciatus vas actually developed as therapy tool,” Viktor explained. “Some vizards and vitches vere experiencing… like current through the body. They vould move vithout control.”

“Muggles call them seizures,” Hermione explained.

Harry and Katie stared at Viktor. “So the Crutiatus curse was a spell used to help people?”

“Da,” Viktor nodded. “This is vhy ve study Dark Arts. Context is important.”

“I had wondered if something like that couldn’t be used like a muggle defibrillator, too,” Hermione ventured the idea. “If a person has a heart attack and their heart stops beating, sometimes an electric shock can start it again.”

It was Katie and Viktor’s turn to stare at Hermione. “You mean, muggles can bring people back from the dead?” Katie demanded.

Hermione shook her head. “No, not really. But the heart can stop beating for a few minutes before serious damage sets in due to lack of oxygen, and if the brain is still sending signals to the body, often the heart can be restarted in that timeframe. They’re not actually dead yet, just dying.”

“If someone were bleeding out, and you put them in a stasis spell until a healer could get to them, wouldn’t that be restoring the dying and not reviving the dead?” Harry asked, trying to draw a parallel for his girlfriend. “It’s kinda like that.”

“Well, yes,” Katie said thoughtfully. “Wow. I kinda want muggle studies to actually teach about this stuff. It takes the wind out of the sails of the ‘wizards are so much better than muggles’ theory.”

“We’ve figured out that Muggle Studies doesn’t teach the advancements of the Muggle world over the last couple hundred years. Apparently they cover history okay, but everything else, our world seems completely oblivious to. Like, did you know that muggle bands sell these discs that have their songs stored on them, so that you can play the songs you want, on demand? Or how muggles have come up with modes of travel faster than any broomstick. Muggles might not have photographs that move but they have moving pictures that last hours.”

Katie and Viktor stared at him. “Do you think,” Katie asked finally, “you could show me?”

Harry nodded. “Maybe some time this summer?” he suggested.

“We could all go,” Hermione suggested. “Just as long as you don’t talk about Quidditch,” she added teasingly.

Harry blushed. “Sorry, Hermione. I think we’re going into withdrawal because of the tournament. We’re used to weekly practice. To go straight to nothing is pretty hard. I promise I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Me too,” Katie agreed.

Hermione smiled. “I honestly don’t mind it once in a while, and I do try to listen at least some of the time. I think I did okay at the World Cup last summer. Just… for me, it’s not an all the time thing, and I honestly don’t understand your fascination with it. But I know you enjoy it, so I’ll try to be more understanding too. I just hate feeling like a third wheel every time it comes up.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Katie assured her. “I don’t think I ever really considered that bringing up Quidditch in general, and our team specifically, with you there basically pushes you out of the conversation, and I’m sorry if I made you feel ignored.”

“It’s fine. You’re forgiven,” Hermione promised, giving Katie a brief hug.

When they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, Harry and Katie said their goodbyes to Viktor and went inside. Hermione lingered for a more private farewell and a few kisses before slipping inside so Viktor could return to the Durmstrang ship.

Hermione spent the rest of the evening in the common room with Harry, Katie, and several of their friends. Her homework for the holiday was finished, so she had plenty of time to just relax and enjoy the time off. Oh, sure, they, had studying to do for the second task, but even though the protective planning part of her brain said they should keep studying, she also knew they would be better off for a break now and again.

They could go back to researching tomorrow.

When she finally decided she was too tired for another game of exploding snap, Hermione said goodnight and headed up to her dorm. But she paused when she found a wrapped box sitting on her bed. It looked like just another Christmas gift, but she waved her wand over it anyway to check for hexes or curses - just in case.

Nothing. It was just a box.

She opened it cautiously and found, inside, another box. This box was made of beautifully finished wood, and though it had some visible seams there didn’t seem to be an obvious catch or hinge. When she picked it up, turning the box over in her hands, she found a note beneath.

_Hermione,_

_I hope you enjoy this magical puzzle box. It will take creativity, intuition and logic to open, but when you succeed you’ll find a surprise within._

_I don’t mean to interfere in your relationship with Viktor, but I also can’t pretend I don’t care. I hope you understand._

_All my love,_

_Fred_

Hermione closed her eyes and took a slow breath, trying to calm her whirling emotions. Fred. Viktor. Confusion, uncertainty, doubt… but also warmer emotions. Maybe not romantic love, not yet, but definitely love and caring, safety and security.

Her life was definitely getting more complicated. And for once, it had nothing to do with her brother.

Over the next few weeks, both Fred and Viktor sought Hermione out. As she was usually found in the Library with Harry and other friends, the two young men also ended up talking to each other as part of the group. It was a little odd at first, but Viktor enjoyed Fred’s sense of humor, and Fred saw how much care Viktor took with all his friends and not just Hermione. They found traits to appreciate in the other, and slowly became friends.

* * *

Valentine’s Day came in a shower of flowers and chocolates. Both Viktor and Fred had gone more traditional in their gifts to Hermione, while Harry had gotten Katie a charm bracelet with a heart charm and the number ‘1’ etched in it. Hermione had realized that, even if Harry didn’t fully understand it yet, he was serious about his relationship with Katie.

Some of the girls, especially those from other houses, were envious and angry that Hermione had two admirers.

“What’s so special about her?” Pansy Parkinson asked snidely during potions class. “She’s fat, ugly, and all she cares about is books. She has the attention of _two_ famous people and one of the best-looking blokes in school?”

“She should just pick one and leave the other two for the rest of us,” Latisha Randle, a 6th year Ravenclaw, was heard saying in the Great Hall at dinner.

Hermione tried not to let the comments get to her, especially after realizing that a portion of the school didn’t realize that she saw Harry as a brother and nothing more, but the words did hurt. Fred, Viktor, and Harry all tried to make her feel better, Harry and Fred enlisting the Gryffindor chasers into helping.

“They’re just jealous,” Katie said sagely. “They want what we have, and it makes them feel better to take us down rather than finding their own happiness. It’s not like Parkinson would ever actually date Harry, here.”

“And honestly, I think part of it is about the attention,” Angelina offered, hugging Hermione against her side. “Even if the article was negative and trashy, you were in the _Prophet_ photographed with Viktor Krum. All of Wizarding Britain knows you were his date for the Ball. And since you’re more weirded out by the idea of people thinking you might also be dating Harry than anything, you and your friends know the rest article was fabrication and rumor. So they attack you personally, hoping to get to you.”

“Don’t listen to Parkinson’s comments about how you look,” Alicia added. “You’re beautiful. We didn’t change how you look for the ball, we just highlighted what everyone sees. If the paper quotes Pansy’s comment about you being fat and ugly and puts it beside your photo, Pansy’s going to look like a liar and a poor loser. After all, she didn’t get Krum’s attention - either before the ball or afterwards.”

“I hate that they think I’m after Viktor’s fame, or Harry’s,” Hermione admitted. “I don’t actually care that either of them is famous, and I don’t even _like_ Quidditch!”

“We know, Hermione, and so does anyone who calls you friend,” Katie assured her. “I’m pretty sure half the school knows you don’t care about Quidditch, even if you support our House during games.”

“It was never a matter of fame. I’m pretty sure I got Viktor’s attention because I _didn’t_ want his autograph when we first met,” Hermione said quietly. “We talked about the new discoveries in Egypt, that first conversation. He’s actually quite intelligent and well-read.”

Katie and Alicia laughed. “Trust you to meet the most famous professional Seeker at the present time and never talk to him about Quidditch,” Alicia said fondly.

“Of course not. I’m not about to change who I am for someone else,” Hermione sniffed.

“That’s exactly why we’re friends,” Harry said. “I’m willing to bet that’s why Viktor likes you too. How many times have we noticed people around this school trying to be my friend so they can be friends with the person I’m perceived to be? I’ve never doubted that you liked me for me and you weren’t pretending just so that I’d be your friend.”

“I would never, you know that.” Hermione smiled when Harry nodded emphatically. “I do understand that’s something you and Viktor both value in me. You’re my best friend because you’re Harry, not because you’re The Boy Who Lived. I couldn’t honestly care less about Viktor being a Quidditch player, other than being happy for for him that he has a career he enjoys so much. I hope someday I can make a living doing something I love, too. Whatever it might end up being.”

“Eet iz a problem with zee world zat people zink wizards matter more zen witches,” Fleur added. “‘Ermione iz accomplished an’ any wizard would be lucky for ‘er attentions. ‘Arry, Fred and Viktor see zis. Eet iz zee rest of zee world ‘oo do not, to zere peril.”

It made Hermione smile to know that Fleur was a feminist too. She’d grown up with modern, fairly liberal parents. Their relationship was of equal partners. An uphill battle, for certain, in Victorian-locked Wizarding Britain. Maybe if she couldn’t make a place for herself in the UK, after school was done she could look into moving to the continent, to a Wizarding culture that wasn’t quite so hidebound.

“Thank you, Fleur,” was all she said aloud. “I agree with you, though, that cultural sexism is definitely a problem. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s one any amount of magic can fix. That sort of issue takes time.”

“Time, but also effort,” Harry said. “I’m not about to stand by and let people think less of you just because of your gender. My Aunt...” Harry stopped himself, but Hermione knew where he was going. Harry had occasionally mentioned how his aunt never had aspirations of a career because of the expectation for her to raise a child.

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Sexism is a problem in the muggle world just as much as in the wizarding world. We’ve maybe progressed a little further, but society in general is still largely male-dominant. In any case, we can fight against it but it won’t change what the _Prophet_ might print tomorrow.” She sighed. “I’m all right, though I do appreciate you all trying to cheer me up. It’s just… hard sometimes. I try not to care what other people say, especially when they don’t really know me, but sometimes it just gets to me.”

“People can talk all they like,” Alicia said. “We know the truth. Isn’t that what matters?”

“And if anyone picks on you enough to make you cry, they get to answer to me,” Harry declared. “Though I hope you’ll come to us instead of running off to hide somewhere,” he added, gently teasing.

Hermione laughed and nodded. “I promise. Though that particular bit of nonsense did get me the best friend I could ever ask for, remember?”

“You don’t need a troll attack to help you find friends anymore, 'Mione,” George informed her playfully.

“A troll attack?” Fleur asked, shocked. “‘Ere in zee school?”

Hermione made a face at George, though whether over letting the troll out of the bag or the nickname, most of the group was unsure. George just grinned, unrepentant.

“One of our Professors was working for You-Know-Who,” Alicia said, “at least that was the rumor. People say that he let the troll in.”

“There are no secrets at Hogwarts,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Everything comes out in rumor. Though not _everything_ is always accurate.”

“Hermione was in the bathroom when we were told there was a troll,” Harry explained. “I went with… another classmate to go get her.”

“Problem was that it had found me before Harry did,” Hermione said ruefully, resigned to sharing the story with Fleur and whomever else among their guests might be listening. “The three of us managed to distract and eventually knock it unconscious before the professors could come to our rescue. Harry and I have been close friends ever since.”

“But not thees ozzer classmate?” Fleur asked with a small frown.

“For a while,” Hermione told her. “But… we had a… falling out, I suppose.”

Harry placed his hand over hers. “He was jealous when we got closer to each other than to him, and he said some pretty awful things both to and about Hermione. Repeatedly. So we stopped being friends with him.” Unstated but well understood was that Harry wouldn’t stand by while anyone hurt his best friend and sister. Fleur nodded in understanding, saying nothing.”

“‘Ow are things with zee egg?” Fleur asked, changing the subject, to Harry’s relief.

“I think I’ve got most of it figured out. I’m just nailing down a few more details. You?” Harry replied.

“Zame,” Fleur concurred.

“I wish you luck in winning the task,” Harry said genuinely, smiling.

Before Harry knew it, the next two weeks had flown by and it was the night before the second task. With Neville’s research, the AA found that Gillyweed would give Harry the ability to breathe and see underwater. They’d obtained a good portion of it by owl order, giving Harry the chance to practice casting spells underwater, as well as giving him more than an hour’s time underwater. The champions had a plan in place to stick together to obtain their ‘treasure’. They’d each use their own skills and methods to adapt to the lake, but they were far less likely to be taken by surprise or caught in a trap with the four of them together.

Harry was shocked, however, when a Prefect was sent for not only Hermione, but also Katie. Suddenly, Harry was terribly torn. He’d been so certain they would take Hermione from him, he hadn’t even considered an alternative. Or that the ‘treasure’ would involve _two_ people he cared about.

He suddenly had even more reason to hope the champions’ plan of sticking together would work out. There was no way he’d be able to leave someone in the lake if they didn’t all make it there together. He couldn’t choose between Hermione and Katie; they were both important to him, for different reasons, and he knew he’d never forgive himself if something happened to one of them because he prioritized the other.

It was, quite literally, a no-win situation.

Harry began to pace across the common room, fretting silently about the quandary he just _knew_ he would be faced with. Even the twins’ attempts to distract him or cheer him up failed; he simply couldn’t take his mind off the absence of his sister and his girlfriend and eventually ended up telling his closest friends just why he was so worried. Fred grew quiet as he joined Harry in worrying about Hermione; Harry couldn’t blame him for it, either. He knew he’d never be able to sleep that night.

At least, not until Angelina caught him and forced a Dreamless Sleep potion down his throat. “You can’t help them if you don’t get some sleep before the tournament,” she whispered as his vision blurred under the influence of the potion.

In the morning, the twins and Neville pestered Harry until he managed to finish a couple slices of toast with his tea. His stomach was in knots and he couldn’t handle the idea of a full breakfast. He hadn’t seen Hermione or Katie since they’d been called away the night before, and the idea of eating a breakfast his sister was denied made his heart hurt.

“It’ll be fine,” Neville tried to reassure him. “Get through the Task and you can enjoy lunch together.”

Harry nodded shakily and checked his pockets again for his supply of Gillyweed and the tether he’d attach to his wand so he wouldn’t lose it in the lake accidentally.

It was a long march out to the lake. Longer than he thought the walk to the lake usually was. It seemed as if he was marching to his doom. He joined Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric, all of them looking pale and worried. Dumbledore went through a few last minute instructions and then raised his wand and it went off with a bang. The champions all looked at each other and proceeded together into the lake. Harry took half his gillyweed, enough for an hour, and ate it. It was gross, like a cross between spaghetti and the eel that Hermione liked. He swallowed hard, and slowly felt himself sprouting gills. His hands and feet became webbed. He couldn’t breathe. He quickly walked to where the water was up to his chest and dove.

The first breath was like the first time he had flown a broomstick. It was wonderful, it was freeing, and it was the same every time; the sensations hadn’t faded with practice or experience. He swam a couple lengths, then glanced behind him and saw Fleur and Cedric with bubble head charms and Viktor who had transfigured his head into a shark’s. He had confirmed that Gillyweed wouldn’t allow him to speak underwater, so the group quickly worked out a series of signs, then swam towards their goal. Spotting a large group of grindylows on their flank, Harry gestured and the group fended them off.

Deeper and deeper they went. Harry noticed that he _didn’t_ notice the cold. He was insulated, somehow, by the gillyweed. He’d definitely have to mention that effect to Hermione; she’d been so worried about him being wet and outdoors in such cold weather. Then he shook his head and refocused; he had to find Katie and his sister, first, and he could worry about everything else after that.

Finally they made it as a group to the hostages. Harry was a little surprised that the merpeople let them by. The four students just floated there, tethered to the lake floor, with little streams of bubbles to indicate they still breathed. Fleur immediately released Gabrielle, Cedric removed Cho and Harry looked at Viktor - or rather he looked at a shark’s head and the shark head stared back. Obviously, the judges meant Viktor to take Hermione and Harry to take Katie. Harry was glad that they decided on going as a group or he would have stayed until all of the hostages were released. Or else perhaps attempted to take more than one himself.

They started back, and the race really began. Harry hung back, not really wanting to win, and also keeping an eye on the group’s flank to keep any creatures off their tails. Now that he could relax over everyone’s safety, winning definitely wasn’t the goal.

Breaking the surface, Katie woke up, as if by magic. After a second, Harry realized it had probably been some sort of spell. Harry helped Katie to shore, feeling the effects of the gillyweed finally abating. “Let me guess,” Katie said, panting a bit from effort. “You lost on purpose?”

Before Harry could answer, they reached the shore, where Melody and her coworkers grabbed them and wrapped them in thick towels, shoving them towards a tent. Inside the tent was blessedly warm and everyone, champions and ‘treasures’ both, were given pepper-up and a hot drink. “Just as a precaution, dears,” one of the medi-witches told them.

Viktor, Hermione, Harry and Katie sat lined up on one of the cots, sipping their drinks. Hermione shot Viktor a small smile when he maneuvered her to sit between himself and her brother. She rested her head briefly on Harry’s shoulder, reassuring him she was fine. When Harry smiled back at her, she let him turn his attention back to Katie while Hermione returned her focus to Viktor. She leaned into his warmth and let him drape the edge of his blanket around her as well.

After several drying charms, Harry and the other champions received their scores, Harry going down to second place for coming up last, everyone went back up to the castle for lunch. As their meal appeared in front of him, Harry’s body reminded him about skipping breakfast and he was ravenous. He piled his plate full of food and tucked in.

“A little hungry, are you?” Hermione teased gently, amused by his behavior.

Harry paused. “Too nervous to eat this morning,” he mumbled. He felt his sister’s eyes on him, but she simply nodded after a moment. There was more to it than that, of course, but he didn’t want to discuss it.

“Then by all means, enjoy,” was all she said as she filled her own plate with more modest quantities of food.

Hermione noticed throughout the meal that Harry was still tense. She looked at Katie curiously who was sitting on Harry’s other side. She gave Hermione a strained look before answering Harry’s question. Clearly something was happening that Harry wasn’t talking about. After lunch, Hermione dragged Harry into the AA room before anyone else could go to the library. “What?” Harry demanded, looking cross.

“What’s going on with you?” Hermione shot back.

“Nothing,” Harry grumbled, “I’m fine.” He turned towards the bookcase and started staring at the books on the shelf without picking any of them. He picked at one of the bindings.

“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Please.”

“Merlin, do you ever stop?” Harry spat. “Do you have to know _everything_?”

Hermione stepped back, her cheeks pink. “Forgive me for being concerned,” she said, trying not to feel hurt. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone.”

Harry said nothing, staring intently at the books on the shelf in front of him. He heard Hermione’s footsteps as she turned away, but before she could leave the room he sighed. “Wait. Don’t leave,” he called out. He heard her pause, heard the door click shut and a couple of tentative steps back towards him. But he knew he’d have to make the first move, even though she’d stayed.

Realizing his hands were shaking, Harry shoved them into his pockets. He turned to face his sister, but couldn’t actually make himself meet her eyes. He stared at the floor, just seeing her shoes and the edge of her robes. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“What’s wong, Harry?” she asked quietly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Shrugging, Harry sighed again. “I know you’ll always listen. That doesn’t mean I can always talk about it.”

“Would it be easier to talk to someone else?” she offered carefully. He shook his head; he wasn’t sure he wanted to put his feelings into words at all, but if he had to… she was still his first choice. Not the only one, anymore, but still his default.

While Harry struggled with his thoughts, Hermione wordlessly herded him to one of the large armchairs their room held. They were getting bigger, so it wasn’t quite large enough for them both, but she squeezed in beside him anyway. And then she just waited. If she pushed again, she might just reignite his temper.

“You both… I didn’t know…” Harry stammered, starting to tear up. He shut his eyes, even though he was facing away from Hermione, to ward off the tears. “Bloody hell…”

“Harry, did you think you’d have to choose between Katie and I?” Hermione asked, quietly. Harry couldn’t bring himself to answer, as a golfball-sized knot was sitting in his throat. When he couldn’t answer, she began piecing the story together for herself. “We were both called away at the same time. And we didn’t come back. I’m sure you waited up for us, but they didn’t let us come back. It must have been terrible, fretting overnight.” She sighed. “I don’t know how they thought we wouldn’t be missed for twelve hours.”

“I knew…” Harry tried, stopped to clear his throat, and tried again, “Knew I’d have to…”

“Have to find us?” she finished for him, and he nodded without ever turning back towards her. Tears blurred his vision, and he shook with the effort of keeping himself contained. He opened his mouth to continue, but nothing emerged. He couldn’t force his feelings into words.

“Harry,” Hermione pressed, politely ignoring the tears he obviously didn’t want to shed. “Do you think I would have agreed to this if Dumbledore _and_ Professor McGonagall hadn’t assured me that the Task was safe?”

Harry tried to scoff, but it came out as more of a sob. “He convinced everyone it was _safe_ to keep the Philosopher’s Stone in the school,” he choked out. “And to keep the school open with a basilisk on the loose.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed lowly. “That’s why it took Professor McGonagall to convince me. She cast the spells on me herself. She refused to leave it to anyone else.”

“But you could still have _died_!” Harry finally exploded, losing control of his emotions in a rush. “Been lost forever! And I couldn’t have saved you both!”

“You weren’t supposed to need to,” Hermione offered. “And with the plan for you and the others to stay together, there shouldn’t have been more than one person there for each champion.”

“What if it hadn’t worked?” Harry demanded, his voice choked with tears and half-snarling in anger. “What if we’d been separated? What if someone got hurt and had to go back?”

Hermione wrapped her arms around her brother from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades. “It didn’t happen, Harry. Everyone made it back, unharmed.”

“I’m afraid… I’m afraid Dumbledore thinks it’s going to be acceptable to sacrifice you,” Harry admitted. “That he doesn’t think you’re worth saving.”

Hermione was quiet for a long moment. “Honestly? Sometimes I think Dumbledore will sacrifice anyone, if it achieves his ends,” Hermione agreed quietly. “You or me, anyone. He wants something from you, and I’ve no idea what just yet. So maybe you’re mostly safe until that happens.” She took a slow, deep breath. “I think it will be up to us to decide, moment to moment, what’s worth it. If I die saving a room full of people, that might be worth it. But I think _we_ have to make those choices, not let other people make them for us.”

Harry tried to control his breathing, to stop the tears now that his anger had spent itself. “Like with the basilisk,” he finally said. “Even if I had died… if you and the others had been safe…”

The memories from the end of their second year still made Hermione shudder, but she couldn’t really argue the point. One life for half a dozen, possibly the whole school? Most people would call that a good deal, at least in the abstract. The problem was simply that none of their experiences were in the abstract. They’d been all too real.

“I’m just… tired… of all this,” Harry said. He looked old suddenly to Hermione. It suddenly occurred to her how exhausting it must have been to have a target on your back at the age of eleven, especially considering how many times he came close to actually dying. Hermione didn’t think it would have mattered to Harry, except for the fact that their parents had actually taught him he was worth something.

“I know you are,” she said instead. “It must be so hard, being put into situations over your head and without your say-so. I wish I could make it stop,” she paused a moment, then wryly added, “not that anyone asks me, either.”

“You keep ending up in danger too,” Harry reminded her. “You may not be the target, but it generally seems that no one minds you being collateral damage.” With a sigh, he finally turned in the chair enough to hug her back. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me for being my friend, my brother,” Hermione interrupted him swiftly. “I made my choices, same as you did, and I don’t regret them. And it’s definitely _not_ your fault.” Harry stayed quiet, so Hermione sat next to him. “How about this? We can talk to Professors Snape and McGonagall and we can go home for Easter Hols?”

Harry nodded. “I’d like that. Just… to get away from it all for a little while.”

“Let Mum bake you biscuits and Uncle Padfoot take you flying?” Hermione suggested with a small smile.

“It’ll be warm enough to play footie with Dad,” Harry said, brightening marginally. “And Mum and I could have a bake day. Is it weird that I look forward to going home more than being here at Hogwarts?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Honestly, it worries me that Dumbledore dropped you at the Dursleys, regarding events of the last four years.”

“You think Dumbledore designed it so that I’d look forward to being here despite the attempts on my life because it was the only place I’d be liked?” Harry asked, well-used to following his sister’s thinking.

“I’m afraid that yes, I think that,” Hermione concurred. “If you saw him and the school as a refuge from your terrible excuse for a home, you’d be much easier for him to manipulate. You’d want his approval, because you’d lack other sources of it.”

“But between you, Mum, Dad, Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony, you’ve broken that cycle,” Harry finished, nodding. “So now we question everything, and we don’t trust as easily.”

“And you embraced your love of learning, rather than hiding it,” Hermione added. “You know so much more about magic and wizarding society than you would have otherwise, and you can use it effectively. That also protects you from some kinds of manipulation.”

“Mia… are we safe at Hogwarts? I don’t just mean the tournament, but really safe? From anything?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione looked down at the floor. “Everyone says that Hogwarts is the safest place in Wizarding Britain… but that doesn’t seem to apply to us, more often than not, does it?”

Harry nodded silently. “Is it okay if I go for a walk?” he asked after a long moment of silence. “I think I need to be alone for a while.” Hermione nodded her consent; not so much that he needed her permission, but that she would do her best not to worry about him overmuch while he was gone. And honestly, a little time to herself might not be such a bad thing. Only the other AA members could find her, here.

Harry walked down to the lake, around it, then along the edge of the forest and across the lawn, at which point he was where he started. He continued the loop for hours, thinking about his place in the Wizarding World as a Potter - a pureblood heir, as the Savior that Dumbledore wanted him to be, and just a boy who wasn’t grown up yet. This year had been a whirlwind. With Barty Crouch Jr back in Azkaban, Moody was actually teaching Defense, and Crouch had been forced into retirement out of shame. A trial for his use of Unforgivables on his son, criminal or not, was pending. Not to mention the fact that Junior had gotten out of Azkaban in the first place. The Quidditch Cup felt like a lifetime ago. And now… Harry just wanted out. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Hedwig flew to him, on one of his loops, delivering the evening Prophet.

“Hey girl,” Harry said softly. “I’m okay. I know, I’m going back for dinner.” Hedwig nibbled at his ear, hooting softly. The tone had always comforted him. Harry stroked her wings, thankful for the silent companionship. Hedwig had seemed so happy every time he went home with the Grangers. She now was free to be out in the backyard, and seemed to understand not to fly above the bushes where she’d attract attention, unless it was dark. She was taken with both George and Jean, and the pair of them loved treating her and the family bird to owl treats and fresh fruit. Hedwig sat on his shoulder when Harry stopped stroking her, as if to say ‘I’ll watch over you. You need me,’ so Harry started back for the castle for dinner. Even as he sat in the Great Hall, she sat on his shoulder, mothering him a bit and not paying attention at all to the attention she was receiving. After he was done and feeling better, she gave a hoot, then took off into the air.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Second Task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have wonderful and amazing readers. We hope you know that we appreciate each and every one of you.

**Chapter 10**

The morning brought the delivery of Witch Weekly to a faction of the girls at Hogwarts. Hermione wasn’t really a fan of the anti-feminist content of the magazine and refused to subscribe, so when people started staring at Harry and Hermione, they borrowed a copy from Parvati Patil. 

Harry was surprised to see the front page featured two photos - one of Harry and Hermione and one with Hermione and Viktor.  _ HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE _ was the title strewn across the front in an angry font. The article inside the magazine detailed some nonsense about Harry being interested in Hermione romantically and Hermione using Harry right up until the moment that Viktor came by. Several students were quoted about it, albeit anonymously, though there were several Slytherins Harry suspected of having participated.

They read the article silently, Hermione biting her lip by about a paragraph in. Trying to avoid making a scene in the Great Hall, Hermione only said quietly, “At least the pictures are nice…”

“Hermione…” Harry began, but she shook her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Hermione whispered. “Not here.”

“The whole school is going to be talking about it,” he pointed out quietly.

“Then I guess I’ll know my friends by who talks to me about it and who just believes this rubbish,” Hermione said, lifting her chin and trying to keep up a brave front.

Harry nodded agreement and ignored the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes. Harry felt protectiveness surge within him. These people had hurt his sister, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her from the negative attention that he had sometimes received due to his fame. “More tea?” he offered, hoping it would help her keep her emotions in check. The ritual of tea was usually calming for them both.

“Please,” she accepted immediately. While Harry made her a fresh cup of tea, she nibbled on a slice of fruit. But she’d well and truly lost her appetite. When her brother passed over the mug, she all but hid her face behind it.

A sudden commotion from across the room caught everyone’s attention; Harry watched in startled surprise as Viktor yelled loudly in Bulgarian, tossed the offending publication onto the floor, then pushed himself up from the Slytherin table. He crossed the room quickly, not stopping even for the people calling questions to him, until he reached the aisle behind Hermione. He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asked lowly, ignoring the combined stares from what seemed like half the school.

Hermione just shrugged and Viktor moved closer, letting her lean against him. It helped a little; Viktor’s calm was soothing. 

Harry looked around and realized they had nearly everyone’s attention. So he stood and offered his hand to Viktor. “The article’s rubbish,” Harry said in a hard, angry voice. “Shall we show them?”

Viktor grinned and took Harry’s hand, shaking firmly. “Indeed. If reporter wants people to think I am stupid, let them. Means they underestimate me. And you, too.”

“And Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Ve cannot control what other people think,” Viktor said with a shrug. “Ve stay close, be supportive, prove rumors false. Friends vill not believe; vill ask for truth.”

Harry thought for a long moment, then nodded. He made a show of moving a seat over as their housemates shifted, making room for Viktor between himself and Hermione of his own volition. His sister was unusually quiet, watching them as closely as everyone else, but he knew she was following along when she gave them both a tremulous smile.

“So, that’s a bunch of offensive nonsense,” Katie commented as she moved down the table to sit across from Harry. She gave him a sweet smile and Harry smiled back, pleased to see her despite his anger. “I’m well and truly offended that I’m not even mentioned in the article,” she continued, obviously making light of the situation. “Do I look like a pity date? I happen to think Harry and I looked great together, both at the ball and after the second task.”

“You absolutely did,” George spoke up from a few seats down the table. “All of Gryffindor knows you two are a disgustingly sweet couple,” he added, teasing. “Skeeter clearly hasn’t checked her sources.”

“Pfft,” Angelina chimed in. “Everyone knows Skeeter doesn’t check her sources. She makes up the most ridiculous drivel she can get away with.”

“Like Harry has ever looked at Hermione like anything other than a sister,” Ron snorted, a little timidly, from a few seats down. “I don’t think anyone in Gryffindor could ever picture them dating.”

“It’s a bit like picturing me kissing George,” Fred commented, looking rather disgusted at Harry and Hermione. “If we weren’t sure of your parenthood and birthdays, I’d say you two were twins.”

Several of their friends made ‘ew’ faces at the mention of the twins kissing, though one or two looked like they actually took a moment to picture it, intrigued. Harry just scoffed, and Hermione actually cracked a smile. Encouraged by Hermione’s expression, the banter continued for the rest of breakfast as their closest friends clustered around the end of the Gryffindor table. Fred sat on Hermione’s other side, George across from him and flanked by Alicia and Angelina. The group even had Harry and Hermione laughing a little before the meal ended.

Viktor spent a few moments adapting to the sudden influx of people, but when he realized they had gathered in support of Hermione, Viktor could only smile to himself. He had friends, sure, but few close enough to rally around him in such a manner when he was stressed. It warmed his heart to see so many who cared about his Hermione.

He confessed to himself alone that he’d been a little worried about Harry when he first noticed Hermione. The two friends seemed inseparable by any known force, muggle or magic. It had been obvious to him, even at first glance, that their love for each other was deep. It was the kind of love that was forged over a long time, or possibly harrowing experiences. But as he got to know them, especially after Hermione explained, he knew that the pair would only ever be siblings to each other. Hermione had told Viktor, with Harry’s permission, the whole terrible story. It was hard to believe that anyone would treat a child in such a manner, but then again he was currently sitting with Hermione, comforting her because a reporter had no shame in publishing lies about their relationship, even though Viktor was the only one among them who was of age. 

After hearing Harry’s story from Hermione, Viktor spent some time with Harry, asking him questions. He was appalled when Harry detailed what it was like, living in a house like  _ that _ , only to exchange it for living in a school where he was under constant threat of dying. Especially to hear that Harry’d been cursed by  _ magicae mortem _ last year and managed to live. Harry’s story was rather incredible.

Harry and Hermione learned quickly to avoid anything anyone sent Hermione in the mail for weeks afterward the WItch Weekly publication. The saving grace was that nothing in the article mentioned anything too shameful, just hinted that Hermione was playing with their emotions. However, two days after Skeeter’s article, a witch in her early 20s had sent Hermione a letter full of bubotuber pus, which very nearly exploded all over Hermione. Thankfully, Fred recognized it and yanked Hermione out of the way just in time. 

After that incident, Hermione had acceded to Viktor’s request that she speak to her Head of House about having her mail screened for dangerous content. Professor McGonagall agreed, under the circumstances. They used the two-way mirrors to get word home about the mail; until further notice, Remus, Sirius and the Grangers would send mail to Fred and George Weasley, who promptly handed over every envelope they received within the one addressed to them. The twins were pleased to have a way to help, Fred in particular.

The added stress helped Hermione to finally make the decision to bring the twins in on the AA. Especially with their newer, younger members needing more help, she knew the group needed additional support. So on Monday after lunch, when they all had a free hour, she dragged Fred and George into an empty classroom and warded it as well as she could to make it private.

“You know, ‘Mione, if you wanted to get us alone,” George began, smirking.

“All you really had to do was ask,” Fred finished.

Hermione shook her head. “I need to talk to you, and I need you to be serious.” She frowned when they just grinned at her. “No, I mean it. This is important. I need you to promise me that what I’m about to tell you will be held absolutely secret, even if you decide not to act on it.”

Fred relented first, worry clouding bright blue eyes as he took in her solemn expression and the tension in her shoulders. His grin faded away and he glanced at George, who came to the same conclusion a few seconds later. She was absolutely serious, and if they didn’t agree to her terms she would just walk away.

“We promise,” they chorused.

After a long moment of studying them intently, Hermione nodded. “Thank you. All right; the truth is that I need your help.” She held up a hand before they could interrupt. “Hear me out first, please.” She waited for them to nod silently, then continued, “A few years ago, I discovered the horrible reality that what passes for ‘discipline’ in some more… traditional… wizarding households would be considered child abuse by muggles.”

“Like Harry?” Fred asked quietly.

“Yes, but unlike Harry, I can’t get these other people out of their home situations,” Hermione agreed, though sadly. “What I did do is help start a support group for them, here at school. It’s completely secret, and we meet in a hidden room. We accept anyone who wants help, regardless of age, house affiliation or blood status.”

The twins considered her words quietly, speaking silently to each other. “So what is it you want from us?” George finally asked.

“Every single person in the group is a victim of abuse, neglect, or both. Except me,” Hermione explained. “I moderate discussions, mediate when needed, and try to find helpful resources for assisting the others in processing their trauma in a healthy way. And sometimes, I just provide a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to who isn’t involved in their situation. What I want is for you both to join us, to help the way I do. The group is growing, as we find more victimized children, and I can’t do it all on my own anymore.”

“That’s… a lot,” Fred said quietly.

“I know it is. But I thought of you two because you’ve been so good about supporting Harry. And honestly, because I know your ultimate goal is to help make people happy, to give them reasons to smile. Some of the group needs that, badly.”

“Who’s in the group?” George queried.

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t tell you that until you agree to join and to keep all our secrets. What I can tell you is that family bias, feuds, bigotry and elitism are all left at the door. Yes, we have purebloods, and some that you might not ever consider. But you have to be able to leave your problems with them outside the group meetings. Family affiliations are completely disregarded, within our group, though we do for the most part keep up appearances in public.” She smiled a little. “Insults don’t hurt nearly as much when you know it’s all for show.”

She sat quietly, letting the twins exchange their thoughts in that uncanny way they had. She would give them all the time they needed to make their choice.

“We’ll do it,” they finally told her.

“Thank you,” Hermione beamed at them. “Meet me in the Library on Wednesday after classes. The full group meets on Friday afternoons, but I can gather everyone together so you can meet them first.”

The first meeting was a little rocky. The twins were rather tense when they realized the biggest Slytherin bullies in Hermione’s year were part of the group. But observation quickly showed them how close the AA members - especially of the same year - really were. 

“Draco’s probably my best friend,” Harry shared openly with the twins. “We’re Quidditch rivals, sure, but we also bond over shared experiences during our childhoods. Draco gets it when I talk about how my relatives withheld basic needs like food, or how pretty much the sole male adult I ever interacted prior to Hogwarts was unpredictable at best.” 

“Both my mother and father took their Dark Marks willingly, no matter what they say to the public,” Draco shared. “Home… it wasn’t happy. Honestly, I confess I’m a bit envious of how you Weasleys grew up. Sure I have all the money in the world, but my father’s never told me that he’s proud of me or that he loves me. My mother’s never even hugged me. It wasn’t until I came here that I got any positive feedback from anyone other than my Godfather, and even then only quietly and when my parents weren’t around.”

The twins were rather shocked at the picture of Draco’s childhood that he painted. Harry realized it was probably rather disconcerting. One moment, you’re hating this kid due to a family rivalry, the next you’re learning how abused other Purebloods actually were. And they learned that even school kids could wear masks; they saw for themselves how the demeanor of elitism melted away from not just Draco, but Blaise and Theo, the moment they walked into the room. They saw all three boys happily accept hugs - or gentle touches in Theo’s case - from Hermione, when they thought none of them would ever willingly touch a ‘mudblood.’ They watched Hermione, Luna and Theo get into a debate about an essay, and never devolve into name-calling or personal attacks. And in the end, the twins slotted in rather well. They were definitely good at making the younger ones laugh when they were upset.

They were also surprised that the group had already invented a sport water bottle. “This is actually pretty smart,” George said, impressed, after Draco demonstrated how it worked. “I’ve seen Viktor and Fleur use these. I didn’t realize they were a new invention.”

“Have you considered talking to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley? See if they would want to sell them?”

“We don’t know anyone we can contact,” Neville admitted. “We’ve been going by owl order and have sold quite a few to Quidditch players here at Hogwarts.”

“We’d be happy to talk to the proprietors of QQS,” Fred said with a grin. “They get a lot of owls with inventions wizards and witches want to sell, but most of those are rubbish. We could put a good word in. If Viktor Krum is endorsing it, it’s easier to get shoppes to listen.”

The twins certainly doubled-down on their desire to make joke products upon learning that so many childhoods in the Wizarding World had been unhappy. Harry recognized that giving someone the ability to laugh - to hope that things would get better - meant the world sometimes.

Early spring flew by and fairly soon they were boarding the Express back to London. Not too many students were going home, surprisingly, but Harry and Hermione were desperate for a vacation. Not from classes, but from Hogwarts and the tournament. Harry, Hermione noticed, was tense the whole ride home. The tension didn’t ease as Harry passed through the barrier, nor as the Grangers picked them up. Harry only briefly and fairly impassively accepted hugs from Jean and George before they went to the car park. It wasn’t until Harry was home with a mug of hot tea in his hands that any degree of tension came off of him.

Harry listened attentively and smiled and answered questions, but for the most part he just seemed incredibly tired. Hermione wondered if anyone else could see it as well. “Harry, come help me with the trash,” George said a little prior to dinner. Harry gave George a look of confusion, then grabbed the full trash bag out of the bin and followed George outside. 

Hermione followed, or tried to until Jean stopped her. “This is a father-son thing, love,” Jean said. Hermione started to protest, but she suddenly saw the same tension on Harry’s face was on her mother’s and her uncles’ faces.

“Come here, love,” Remus said, opening his arms for a hug. Hermione rushed into them, breaking down into tears she didn’t know she had. “There you go. We’re almost through this year, and we’re going to have a big family meeting about our options. I don’t think anyone thinks that staying at Hogwarts is a good idea.”

Hermione started hearing sounds of Harry’s football hitting the net. “It’s not that I don’t love it there. I do. And I love all my classes. But every year…”

“Harry’s life becomes in danger,” Remus finished. “We know. It’s not something we’re happy about. It never has been.”

“Us either,” Hermione admitted through her tears. “We don’t really want to leave our friends behind, and I’d feel terrible if it seemed like we were abandoning the AA. But…”

“But Harry’s safety, and yours, are our priority,” Jean said gently, passing Hermione a handful of tissues. “Remember, love, you brought Harry to us because you didn’t know what to do or how to help him. Trust us now, like you did then, please. We’ll keep you both involved, but we’re your parents. You are older, and wiser, but you are still allowed to be a child. The adults can take care of this, so please trust us to.”

“I trust you, Mum. I trust all of you.” Hermione sniffled, trying to get her tears under control. Remus guided her gently to the living room, where he nestled her safely between himself and Sirius while Jean sat on the coffee table in front of Hermione. “The tournament could be worse,” Hermione managed when she calmed down. “I know it terrified Harry, but mostly because of the possible consequences of failing. The other champions are all looking out for him. They stuck together for the second task, and Harry deliberately held back at the end because he really doesn’t care about winning.”

“If it went well, why is Harry still so stressed about it?” Sirius asked, worried.

Hermione took a slow breath. “I think you should ask him for the details directly, if he’s willing to talk about it. But the ‘treasures’ the riddle mentioned would be taken ended up being people. Both Katie Bell and I were hidden in the lake, guarded by merpeople, for the champions to retrieve. I think I was actually meant for Viktor to rescue, but…”

“Knowing our Harry, he made the wrong assumption. And he would never have been able to choose only one of you to save if it had come to that,” Remus finished when Hermione trailed off.

“I tried to tell him not to stress about what didn’t happen,” Hermione whispered. “But I don’t think it’s helping.”

An hour later, Harry came in and joined Hermione in front of the TV. She gave him a tentative smile and moved the plate containing sliced fruit and a handful of biscuits so it sat between them in a silent offer to share. Harry picked up a biscuit, but only nibbled on the edge as they sat in silence. Hermione decided it would be best to wait him out; the past few times she’d pushed when he was emotional and stressed, he’d lashed out in anger.

While the teens were in the other room and given the privacy of the noise of the TV, George leaned tiredly against the counter. “Did he say anything?” Sirius asked George. 

“Harry’s been dreaming,” George explained in a low tone. “About You-Know-Who. He dreams about him torturing Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. He says they feel the way the dream at Potter Manor felt. Like it was real.”

“Does he really think Voldemort would kill him?” Sirius hissed.

George shook his head. “I think what he’s really afraid of is losing someone he loves, of someone sacrificing for him.”

“The way Lily did,” Remus finished quietly. “I can’t honestly say I blame him for that. He’s already lost everything once.”

“Is it us or Hermione he’s most worried about?” Jean asked.

“Hard to say.” George shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure  _ he _ knows. Hermione has magic to defend herself with, and we don’t... but we’re also typically isolated from their problems at school. Unless someone specifically sought us out in the non-magical world, we’re probably safer.”

“He’s also probably worried about his friends. You know how much he cares about the AA,” Remus added. “And Cedric is actually  _ in _ the tournament with Harry.”

Sirius snorted. “Cedric, Krum, and Delacour are all of age and older than Harry. Surely he wouldn’t worry about them.”

Remus shook his head, disagreeing. “No, I’m sure he does. The idea that someone has forced him into the tournament to make him a target probably also means he believes the danger of the tournament is increased for everyone. He may not be wrong, either, more’s the pity.”

Jean ran her hands over her face, rubbing under her eyes hard. “Good Lord, I’m going to go gray over this year. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

“Eight more weeks,” Remus said. “We just have to get Harry to relax over the next two weeks, and then it’s eight more weeks at Hogwarts and after that we can keep him home for good.”

“We’ll do all of Harry’s favorite things,” Jean said, collecting herself. “Museums, baking days, maybe a picnic in St. James Park?”

“We should do a few things for Hermione too,” George agreed. “Maybe catch a musical at West End?”

“Good idea,” Jean agreed. “Let me go make some calls, see what we can get tickets for.”

The Easter Hols passed in a whirlwind of activity. They interspersed days out with days at home, doing family things. Sirius and Remus were involved in almost everything, except for when Harry and Jean summarily banished everyone not cooking from the kitchen. They paid special attention to Harry and his state of mind, though they never neglected Hermione either. By the middle of the second week, the lines of tension in Harry’s back and shoulders were all but gone, and both teens were smiling and laughing a lot more.

The train back to Hogwarts was refreshingly normal, and for the six weeks following the holiday, no one in the AA talked about the tournament, other than teaching Harry every spell they could to help him with the upcoming Third Task, which was revealed to be a maze.

Both siblings took advantage of Hogsmeade weekends for further dates as well. Hermione and Viktor would go on long walks, and Harry and Katie went flying together. Hermione also received several ‘anonymous’ gifts, usually small things delivered to the Great Hall by Hedwig. Flowers, letters, occasionally candy; though the gifts were unsigned, Hermione knew they were from Fred. He must have convinced Harry to allow him to use Hedwig, knowing everyone would allow Hedwig to bypass the screen on Hermione’s mail. 

Still, they were all stretching themselves pretty thin, Harry especially, so it wasn’t a huge shock when Harry fell asleep in the middle of Arithmancy. It was a warm day, and the sun was hitting the windows in such a way that it heated up the entire room. The very air was rather muggy. Harry nodded off, and was suddenly flying away from Hogwarts on the giant owl. The owl took him to the house he’d been dreaming about all year. He dreamed of Voldemort torturing Pettigrew. He could feel their pain. It was horrible. 

“Harry!” someone shouted. “Harry!”

Wait. He knew that voice. He blinked. Hermione was kneeling over him. “What happened?” he asked, his mouth filled with cotton. 

“I think you had a seizure…” Hermione revealed, Harry sat up slowly and wiped the sweat off his brow. Hermione forgot where they were momentarily and felt his forehead. “Harry! You’re burning up!”

Harry suddenly became aware of the class standing around them looking concerned. 

“I’ll send for Madame Pomfrey,” Professor Vector said. 

“No,” Harry said. “I can go myself. I’m alright.”

“Are you certain?” Vector asked, looking unsure. 

Harry nodded. “You’re revising for exams.” While he was exempt from exams, due to his involvement with the tournament, he was still sitting his classes for the sake of learning. He was actually a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get to sit his exams as it was the only accurate way to establish class standings.

Hermione started to gather her things. “No, Hermione, stay. You have exams next week and you have to defend your title as best in the class.” A few people chuckled. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m coming,” Hermione said, obviously insulted at the suggestion that she shouldn’t. 

“Hermione, it’s only two floors down and Madame Pomfrey is just going to have me sleep. I’m probably just overtired.”

Hermione hesitated. “All right,” she conceded, ”but you’d better be resting when I come find you after class.” 

Harry gave Hermione a good-natured smile and nodded a promise, then gathered his things and started for the Hospital Wing. But on a whim, he headed for the headmaster’s office. Finding the Gargoyle, it took Harry a few minutes to remember that McGonagall had said Dumbledore’s passwords were always muggle sweets, then to run through enough candies that he landed on the correct one. 

The office was empty. “Er, Professor?”

“He momentarily stepped away,” a portrait informed him. “You can wait inside.”

Harry stepped into the office and noted the pensive on Dumbledore’s desk. He sat, and waited. Curious, after long minutes had passed, he stood over it. Without realizing it, he blinked and was suddenly in an indoor stadium. He glanced over and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting next to him. “Sorry! Professor Dumbledore. I didn’t mean -” Professor Dumbledore didn’t react to him, and Harry remembered that he wasn’t really there, if he was in a Pensive. That said, he doesn’t know how he’d gotten in or how to get out. He watched Karkaroff’s trial, then Bagman - to his surprise, then his heart clench as he watched Crouch Jr, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the Lestrange brothers being sentenced for torturing Neville’s parents.

“I think it’s time that we leave the past.” Harry looked over and saw Dumbledore - his Dumbledore. Harry blinked and he was back in Dumbledore’s office. “My apologies, Harry. I did not mean to leave my Penseive out. I’m sure it was too much temptation for someone as young as you.” Harry resisted the urge to snort. He certainly didn’t feel young. He’d been through too much. But he said nothing. “Did you have something you wished to talk about?”

“I had a dream, Professor,” Harry shared. “About Voldemort. He was in an old house with Pettigrew, Crouch Jr., and a very large snake.”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “And have you had this dream before?”

“Once,” Harry revealed, fudging the truth. “This summer.”

“Hmmm. The area around your scar is irritated,” Dumbledore observed.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, his hand going up to his forehead. “Hermione noted that I was feverish… she thought I had a seizure.”

Dumbledore paused for half a second. “I do not believe these are dreams,” Dumbledore advised. 

This surprised Harry. “What… what else could they be.”

“You’re linked, in a way, to Voldemort. He linked himself to you the night he tried to kill you,” Dumbledore explained. “That is why your scar has always hurt when Voldemort was nearby or feeling strong emotions.”

“So… you think they really happened?” 

“Yes, Harry. I do. There are currently two missing people. Bertha Jorkins, who was last seen in Albania, and Frank Bryce, who was the Riddle family’s caretaker in a town called Little Hangleton.”

“Riddle?” Harry asked. “As in Voldemort?”

“His muggle father’s family,” Dumbledore explained. “The Ministry doesn’t believe the two disappearances to be connected or even anything important.”

Harry was quiet. “Several Death Eaters named Snape as a Death Eater,” Harry noted.

“Professor Snape,” Dumbledore corrected, making Harry bristle even though he heard the same words from Hermione regularly. Somehow it was different, coming from Dumbledore. “Severus risked his own life acting as a double-agent.” Harry again was tempted to snort at Dumbledore’s oversimplification of what happened with Snape, but Harry had long ago forgiven him. He didn’t blame Snape for the mistake of giving into house pressure during the war.

They exchanged small talk for a few more minutes, then Harry excused himself when he realized he was unlikely to get anything more of substance from the Headmaster. He proceeded to the Hospital Wing, where he sighed and let Madame Pomfrey fuss over him. At least it meant he got some relief from the headache plaguing him.

He was, indeed, settled into a bed and resting with a book propped against his knees by the time Hermione found him after class. She gave him a smile as she approached. “Hi, Harry. Are you feeling any better?”

“Some,” he agreed. “Madam Pomfrey gave me potions for the headache and fever, but she wants me to stay here tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Harry said easily. “Madame Pomfrey thinks I’m just working too hard and thinks I need a decent night sleep. Personally I think she just wants me to say where she can see me. You don’t have to stay.”

“She’s not the only one,” Hermione grumbled good-naturedly.

“If you want to stay, feel free,” Harry said with a shrug.

Hermione nodded. “I’ll go talk to Madame Pomfrey,” she said. Harry watched her disappear into the office. She returned a few minutes later, smiling. “I can stay until dinnertime, and then I have to go eat with the others. I may return after eight and stay the night.” She paused, watching Harry. “Unless you really don’t want me to.”

“If you like,” Harry answered with a shrug. “I know you’re not really friends with your dorm-mates, so you’d probably be in the library until curfew if you aren’t here.”

“They’ve actually been a lot kinder to me this year, though I suspect it’s due to the fact that I’m dating Viktor Krum,” Hermione giggled.

“And the Weasley they’re interested in isn’t one of the twins,” Harry added, smirking when she blushed in response. Some of the girls in their year had started mooning after Ron, which Ron seemed to be enjoying. Harry and Hermione had decided to mostly ignore it and concentrate on their own relationships.

“More fools, them,” Hermione replied, nose in the air in a moment of disdain. “Either of the twins would make a far better target for a crush.”

“I don’t know,” Harry teased. “I thought Charlie was pretty dreamy.” 

They both laughed at the joke, then Hermione grew pensive. “Do you think it’s possible to love two people at once?” she asked.

Harry looked startled, but rather than answer immediately he gave it some serious thought. “I don’t know. Maybe it depends on the people involved? Or the kind of love? I mean, you can love both parents, and lots of aunts and uncles. You can love your friends, and there doesn’t seem to be a limit on that, either. I know a lot of the ‘great romances’ held up as examples are just two people, but…” Harry shrugged. “What brought that on?”

“This whole… situation. With Viktor and Fred.” Hermione sighed, and Harry scooted over on the bed to make room for her to sit beside him. She climbed up onto the bed to sit shoulder to shoulder with him. Harry took her hand.

“Talk to me, Mia,” Harry urged her quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, per se,” she began slowly. “But… well… I’ve been really happy with Viktor, you know? He’s sweet and charming, and he makes me feel like he sees all of me. He thinks I’m pretty  _ and _ enjoys my intelligence. I’ve never felt like that before, not really.” Harry nodded and squeezed her hand gently. “But then there’s Fred. He says he loves me, and I believe him. I like him a lot, and he also makes me feel special. He makes me smile more often than not, but he can still take me seriously when I need him to.”

“I don’t think I have any good advice for you,” Harry said slowly. “I’ve never been the best with girls, at least ones who aren’t sisters.” Hermione smiled a bit and nodded her understanding. “But I think maybe if you’re feeling torn up inside, you should talk to them.”

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t! I don’t want to hurt them, either of them. I don’t want Viktor to think I’m doubting him…”

“You can’t control what someone else does or feels, Mia,” Harry advised thoughtfully. “But I think it’s better to be upfront and honest with the people you love. Wouldn’t they be more hurt if they found out you hid it from them?”

“Yes, probably.” She slumped in defeat. “I’m just so confused, Harry. I don’t like being confused.”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Harry teased gently. “You’re not used to it. Some of our classmates seem to spend half their lives confused. We’re teenagers, most of us are confused about something at some point. All that it means is that you’re human. The only thing I know for sure is that whatever happens - whatever you decide - I’ll support you.”

Hermione stared at Harry. “When did you become so wise?” she inquired.

Harry shrugged. “I guess I’ve spent so much time on issues that most people our age never deal with that it… clarifies… things.” Harry yawned.

“You can take a nap if you’d like,” Hermione said. “I’ll be here.”

Harry slept most of the afternoon and evening, waking only to eat ravenously at dinner, and woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in awhile. He realized that talking about Hermione’s love life had helped - it was normal. He resolved to talk about more normal things, and maybe pull a few pranks with the twins to blow off steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter for us. We hope you enjoyed it too!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets the other champions families and they compete in the third and final task.

The next two weeks flew by, and Harry, thankfully, didn’t feel overly stressed the morning the Third Task dawned. He double-checked that his wand holster was secure and all of his extra gear and supplies obtained for the task were in good repair and full. He walked to breakfast with Hermione and Katie flanking him and stopped dead when he saw Molly Weasley and her eldest, Bill, in the Entrance Hall.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry asked, approaching her with a furrowed brow. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” Mrs. Weasley said, shocked at Harry’s reaction. “We’ve come to support you, dear. Champions are allowed family members to come watch the Third Task. Since you only have your muggle relatives…”

Harry looked around and saw Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur with their parents. Fleur glanced back and, for just a moment, gave Bill Weasley an appreciative once over. “But…” Harry said very carefully. He didn’t want to insult Mrs. Weasley, but she was the mother of his friends, not his own mother. He didn’t even see her as an aunt, really. Just the sight of Mrs. Weasley made him miss his Mum and Dad all the more. He knew they weren’t allowed to come to Hogwarts, and he knew that they were behind him in spirit, but it would have been nice to have his family there, since everyone else’s were. 

Just as Harry was despairing, a dog barked loudly, echoing in the Entrance Hall. Harry whirled around and grinned as he saw the large black dog beelining for him, several people letting out frightened screams. Someone shouted about a Grim, and Hermione giggled. Harry laughed with her as he knelt down to greet his Godfather and Padfoot rammed into him. 

“Padfoot,” Harry choked out, as the wind was knocked out of him. His heart soared with the sudden reassurance that some of his family  _ was _ going to be there. He dug his fingers into Padfoot’s thick fur as Padfoot started licking him as if Harry were a pup needing a wash.

“Morning Harry,” Remus said, walking up to them. Hermione flung her arms around Remus in a tight hug since Padfoot still had Harry pinned to the ground. “Hermione,” Remus added, returning the hug.

Molly Weasley stared at Remus and the big black dog, her jaw dropping when the dog then pounced on Hermione as soon as he let Harry up. “Mrs. Weasley, I’m sure you know my Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius,” Harry said, dusting himself off. 

After sufficiently slobbering on Hermione, Sirius transformed back into a man and Molly’s eyes widened. “You’re… you’re...” she stammered.

“My godfather and my uncle,” Harry explained. “My family.” Not all of it, but Mrs. Weasley didn’t need to know that.

“Good to see you again, Molly,” Sirius said, turning up the charm to smile brightly at her. “Bill… you grew up.”

“It’s very nice of you to come to support Harry,” Remus said, shaking Bill’s hand. “You’re welcome to join us, of course. Our Harry certainly doesn’t have as much family as some.” A glance at the Delacoeurs and the Krums, with their rather large immediate families, made the point.

Abruptly recalling his manners, Harry reached out a hand to Katie. “Everyone, this is Katie Bell… we’ve been dating since Yule. Katie, I’d like to introduce you to my Uncle Remus - who you remember as our professor, of course - and my godfather-slash-uncle Sirius.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Sirius said in an overly friendly tone, holding his hand out to Katie. She took it tentatively, then a bit more firmly when Harry smiled.

“And you, Mr. Black. Professor Lupin,” Katie replied. “I’m glad you could be here for Harry.”

“We are too,” Remus agreed, also taking Katie’s hand for a moment.

Cedric came over shortly after introductions finished. “Harry, I’d like you to meet my family,” Cedric said quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory,” Harry said politely, extending his hand. 

“Ced talks a lot about you,” Mr. Diggory said cordially, taking Harry’s hand and shaking it. “Though I think we can all agree that he’s the  _ real _ Hogwarts Champion.”

Cedric looked ashamed, Hermione and Katie frowned, Sirius and Remus looked grim, while Bill and Mrs. Weasley looked like they weren’t sure what to say. “I’d agree with that,” Sirius said tightly. “After all, someone’s trying to assassinate my godson in front of everyone and no one is doing anything about it. He’s not a champion, he’s just a kid.”

Mr. Diggory shifted uncomfortably. “Sirius Black,” he said, releasing Harry’s hand. “I… I apologize for the things I said about you back just after the war.”

The tension surrounding the group became thicker. Harry looked between Mr. Diggory and Sirius. He knew a lot of people had spoken against Sirius after he was put in Azkaban, but never thought that it still bothered him. But Sirius went red. “I can’t say that I forgive you,” he said tightly. “You knew me. You worked with me. You knew I detested the pureblood ideals Death Eaters seemed obsessed with. You knew that James was my  _ brother _ .”

Mr. Diggory shifted uncomfortably, a blush beginning to grow across his face. He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it as he realized nothing he could say would help the situation. He’d already apologized, and that was the most he could do this far after the fact. “Amos,” Mrs. Diggory interjected. “We should go inside.”

“Right,” Mr. Diggory said after a moment, breaking off his stare at Sirius. Cedric looked rather pained, giving Harry and Sirius and apologetic look. The Diggorys headed inside, and Sirius slowly relaxed, turning his attention back to Molly and Bill.

A few minutes later, the group was approached by Viktor and an older couple everyone assumed to be his parents. They’d left the throng of what Harry assumed to be older siblings or other close family. “Excuse, please,” he said diffidently. “Vould like to introduce my parents to you all?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed quickly.

“Mother, Father, this is Harry Potter, the accidental champion I vrote you of,” Viktor said politely. “My parents, Tihomir and Rivka Krum.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Krum,” Harry greeted them politely. “These are my uncles, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. And family friends, Mrs. Weasley and her son, Bill.” Harry seriously considered introducing Hermione, but really… that should be Viktor’s job.

The adults exchanged greetings and handshakes politely while Viktor held his hand out to Hermione, much as Harry had done with Katie not long ago. She gave him a smile and moved to his side, taking his hand. “And this,” Viktor concluded, turning to his parents again, “is Hermione Granger, my…” He asked Hermione for a translation for ‘gadge’ - the Bulgairan word for girlfriend.

Hermione blushed. “Girlfriend,” she said softly.

Viktor nodded. “Girlfriend and sister-in-heart to Harry.”

“Vonderful to meet you bot’,” Viktor’s father said thickly, shaking hands all around.

“We’re very pleased to meet you too,” Hermione replied in careful Bulgarian. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Come, let me see you?” Rivka held out her hands to Hermione, who stepped towards her at Viktor’s gentle urging. They clasped hands, Hermione standing a bit awkwardly and unsure, but Rivka drew her in close. They studied each other for a moment before Rivka smiled. “You are lovely. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hermione,” Rivka said in a milder accent than her son and husband, leaning in to buss Hermione’s cheeks with polite kisses. Hermione returned the gesture, being passingly familiar with it from travels in other countries.

“Your Bulgarian is very good,” Tihomir complimented in his native language. 

“Thank you, sir. Early in the year, we decided to start a group so that we could learn each other’s languages,” Hermione explained. “There are a number of us who have learned some Bulgarian or French due to the Tournament.”

“A very good idea.” Tihomir beamed. “But ‘sir’ is not necessary. I am Tihomir, especially to one whom my son feels strongly for.”

“Ve have ‘eard much about you as vell, Harry Potter,” Rivka said evenly in English. “Viktor says you are a challenge as a Seeker.”

“We just go flying sometimes,” Harry admitted, blushing. “I hardly think Viktor was actually putting too much effort into it. I’m sure in a real challenge, I’d get creamed.”

“Maybe ve could arrange somet’ing t’is summer?” Tihomir suggested. “Viktor vill resume practices only a few weeks after t’e term ends.”

“We can certainly discuss it,” Sirius offered. “Though Hermione’s parents would need to be consulted too, of course.”

“Of course,” Rivka agreed readily. “Vill they be here today?”

“They’re muggles,” Mrs. Weasley said, in a very subtle dismissive tone. Hermione tried hard not to roll her eyes.

Rivka tilted her head, regarding Molly as if she weren’t sure what to make of her. “If their daughter calls Harry her brother, regardless of blood, does that not make them family? And so they should be invited to vitness the Task?”

“It’s not recognized as such, no,” Remus said with a sad smile. “But we’re here for Harry.”

Tihomir clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly, but didn’t comment further. “Ve should head in, yes?” he asked instead. “Should be starting soon?”

Harry’s stomach grumbled. Sirius laughed. “Yes, let’s go in and eat breakfast.”

The breakfast provided was a cross-section of traditional breakfasts in England, Bulgaria, and France. Harry grazed, beginning to feel a little bit of nerves approaching the final task. If this was an attempt on his life, the enemy had one more chance.

Thankfully, he had people around him who knew him well and picked up on his nerves. They spent the day on the Hogwarts lawn away from most of the crowds, house elves bringing them a picnic lunch. Viktor and Harry spent some time flying, racing each other around the castle grounds and using the practice snitch that Viktor had to try and determine who was the better seeker. Meanwhile, Hermione read a book while the adults chatted idly about the ministry’s handling of the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins and the recent benefits in international relations due to the Tournament.

“England’s been a bit isolated in recent years due to the war,” Remus said. “It’s good to see us opening our borders again.

“On the contrary,” Rivka said. “England ‘as… refused to change vith the rest of the vorld. The era of Victoria ‘as been over for some time now.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Your view on ‘istory is outdated and dangerous,” Rivka accused.

“I agree,” Bill said. Molly looked stunned at her son’s assessment. “It’s not simply that the history we learn in England hasn’t been updated in a long time. The world is changing. It’s becoming more accepting. Some countries are even starting to argue that we should abandon the Statute of Secrecy. England has been left behind.”

“It would be more accurate to say that Wizarding England has been left behind,” Remus commented mildly. “Those of us who grew up with a muggle parent or grandparent have tended to learn more about modern culture as well. I’m sure Hermione could tell you a great deal, if you cared to listen.” Harry and Viktor landed, not far away, and came over, panting hard, to refill their water bottles with their wands and take a breather.

Hermione blushed, but set her book aside to join the conversation for a while. “It’s possible,” she allowed. “But most witches and wizards don’t really seem to care much about the muggle perspective.”

Rivka studied the group very carefully. “Vhat vould you have to say if I asked you about the Holocaust?” Remus and even Sirius blanched, Hermione looked terribly sad, the Krums all sobered very quickly, and Molly just looked puzzled. “That is vhat I thought.”

“Was that part of Grindelwald’s war?” Molly finally asked.

“It happened in the muggle world,” Harry said somberly. “It was a genocide of eleven million European Jews and other minority groups. Imagine if Voldemort became Minister of Magic, then rounded up all the muggleborns, imprisoned them, and at random murdered ten or twenty of them at a time.” Hermione paled at the thought, and Harry took her hand for a comforting squeeze. 

“Then imagine that for every person Voldemort killed, it was a hundred or a thousand people,” Sirius added in a low tone. He’d done some research on the Muggle side of the second World War after some prompting by Remus and Lily. It was pretty horrible, even just to read about. “There are just so many more muggles than there are witches and wizards, it would take something on that scale to even come close.”

“It was an all-out campaign,” Remus said softly. “Hitler, the leader, spent years convincing people that anyone Jewish or disabled or ‘other’ was the reason why life was hard for the Germans. Voldemort was starting to do it regarding muggles and muggle-borns in the late 70s. Creating fear, disdain and hatred of anyone different.”

“Then fear and hatred turned to a need to eradicate anyone with those differences,” Hermione concluded. “Both in Germany in the thirties, and here under Voldemort’s influence.”

“Those vho do not know their history are often doomed to repeat it,” Rivka said in a sober tone. “And you vonder vhy ve believe ignorance is dangerous?”

“Hermione?” Bill said after a long moment of silence.

“Yes, Bill?”

“Can you loan me some muggle history books, please? I’ve learned a lot in my travels for work, but I think I still have some catching up to do,” Bill requested.

“I’d be happy to,” Hermione agreed, smiling just a little.

Molly seemed absolutely stunned at the discussion. “Eleven  _ million _ ?” she asked softly.

“It caused a world war,” Hermione explained further. “Many countries declared War against Germany and Germany started to invade its neighbors. More than 60 million soldiers died before the War ended.”

“England was under constant threat of being bombed,” Harry added. “There are still some places in England that haven’t been rebuilt and you can see the damage.” He paused before continuing. “War is an awful thing.”

The conversation eventually shifted to lighter things. Harry dozed off for a short nap, and it wasn’t long before he and Viktor had to go get ready for the final Task. The others prepared to head towards the stands. 

“Harry, wait,” Hermione said, rushing after to him just moments after they had just parted ways. “Give me your coin.” Harry fished out his coin and handed it over without question. Hermione immediately put a locator spell on it. “I know you have your broomstick shrunk down and you can send up red sparks, but just in case things get out of control…”

Harry surged forward and embraced Hermione. “I’m going to be okay, Hermione.”

“Be safe,” Hermione sniffled.

“Stronger together,” Harry said with a smile.

Hermione put on a brave smile in return. “I love you, little brother. Always.”

McGonagall met them at the bottom of the stands, after Hermione, Sirius, and Remus parted ways with the Krums and the Weasleys, with two people who looked extremely familiar. “Mum!” Hermione hissed happily. “Dad. What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think we’d miss this, did you?” Jean whispered, hugging her daughter.

“I kept being told you wouldn’t be invited,” Hermione whispered back, clinging to her mother for a long moment. “I’m so glad you’re here. Did you see Harry?”

“No, but Minerva promised to tell him we were here,” Jean answered softly.

They sat together in the stands, a little away from the major throng of the crowd. Magical ‘screens’ were set up showing each champion, enlarged so everyone could watch easily. Hermione could see Harry and Viktor both looking determined. Hermione recognized the tension and flashes of fear on Harry’s face. She tried to ignore the bad feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. Ludo Bagman gave final instructions and Cedric, in first place, started into the maze. Harry was second, followed by Viktor, then Fleur was the final one. 

Hermione watched on the edge of her seat as Cedric faced a boggart and hinkypunks and a sphynx and all manner of things. Harry, on his own path, faced other creatures and challenges. One area of the maze appeared to be frozen entirely. She caught a flash of something out of the corner of her eye and turned her attention in its direction, just in time to see Viktor round a corner, and suddenly he seemed to be walking stiffly. 

Hermione sat up immediately. “Something’s wrong,” she alerted them.

“What is it, Kitten?” Sirius asked.

“Viktor. He’s… look, he’s moving like… like a puppet with someone inexperienced pulling the strings,” she pointed out.

Remus narrowed his eyes, watching the screen. “That looks…” He trailed off, then began to swear. “I think he’s been Imperiused!”

“That’s not supposed to happen in there!” Hermione hissed. “We need to tell someone!”

“What’s happening?” George asked in a quieter voice. Sirius leaned in and quietly explained the imperius curse to the Grangers while Remus held Hermione’s arm to keep her from dashing down the stands.

“We don’t know what the challenges are supposed to be, Hermione,” Remus reminded her. “It may be part of a challenge.”

“Unforgivables aren’t valid challenge tactics! It’s in the rules!” Hermione retorted angrily. But she relented under Remus’ firm grip, retaking her seat. “It’s illegal. It’s  _ vile _ . It’s immoral. Who would do such a thing?”

They watched on the screen as Viktor’s course changed until he was not far behind Harry. Then he stopped abruptly, looking pale; Hermione wondered if he suddenly had more incentive to fight the curse, with Harry so close. He started forwards again, but then stopped and his face changed.

The crowd gasped as Viktor abruptly shook himself and then lunged forwards, tackling Harry out of the way of an acromantula strike. The two young men fought the huge spider off together, throwing flame spells and bombarding it with explosions. When it was dead, they paused for a brief discussion. Hermione wished she knew what they were saying, but after a moment they shook hands and parted ways again.

A short time later, Hermione was torn between watching Harry solve a riddle from a sphinx and Viktor encountering some sort of magical mist that hindered his movement down his chosen path. She completely missed what happened to Fleur, but there was a gasp from the crowd and then the first set of red sparks shot up from the maze.

It was actually kind of interesting to see the buzz of activity as the teachers responded to Fleur’s call for help. Madame Maxime was identifiable even without the magical image that allowed the audience to watch the champions’ progress. She gently gathered Fleur into her arms and carried her to the temporary path created into the maze, allowing them faster access to the healer’s tent.

Idly, Hermione wondered if Melody was with them again. She found she rather hoped so, just in case, though she wouldn’t be surprised if the controversy with her father and brother kept Melody at home.

Viktor found a way to defeat the magical mist eventually, but found himself in a dead end after a few more turns of the maze. Rather than watch him retrace his steps, Hermione went back to following Harry’s progress. Her brother had nearly caught up to Cedric, and she was pleased to see him still safe so far.

“He’s doing really well,” Jean commented as Harry moved past the sphinx. “I can’t help but be proud of him, even if I never wanted him in this contest to begin with.”

“I think we can all agree on that, Jean,” Sirius said, cheering Harry’s success along with the others.

“He was talking to an actual sphinx?” George asked.

“Sure,” Remus agreed. “The challenge was probably a riddle or other logic puzzle. Not everything needs to be defeated with spells.” 

Cedric had nearly reached the entrance to the maze’s center, where the Cup waited. Hogwarts’ population of students and teachers were clearly preparing to cheer with pride when their Champion won. But Hermione gasped along with the rest of the audience when one of Hagrid’s Blast-ended Skrewts bowled the Hufflepuff over; one last trap, obviously. Harry had clearly heard the commotion as well, because he started running. A moment later, Harry’s spell knocked the Skrewt away from Cedric, and between the two of them they managed to bombard it with enough spells to incapacitate the crossbred monster.

Again, there was a pause for discussion. Startled murmurs raced up and down the stands as people tried to figure out why the two boys weren’t running for the Cup in a race to win.

“Harry’s trying to convince Cedric to take the Cup,” Jean breathed as she watched her son vehemently arguing with Cedric.

“Harry never wanted to win,” Hermione reminded them quietly.

“But he saved Cedric’s life, and a Diggory never forgets a debt,” Sirius commented. And it seemed he was right. Rather than Cedric claiming victory, they both approached the Cup. At the same time, clearly counting it out, they each took a handle. “Cedric especially - he’d want a fair outcome.”

And then they were gone.

“What the hell?” George yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Hold on, George,” Remus said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It may have just portkeyed them to the starting line. Or possibly even to the judges’ tent. Give it a minute.”

But a minute passed, and then two, and then five. People started getting antsy. The judges were conferring about something. It was clear that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. They watched as Viktor made it to the center, realized the Cup was gone, and sent up his own red sparks to be retrieved rather than fight his way back out again. And still, there was no sign of the boys. Hermione’s stomach was in knots, the bad feeling she’d tried to dismiss earlier came back with a vengeance. “Something’s wrong,” she muttered to herself, doubling over. Her eyes shot open. “Oh…”

All at once, Hermione’s body sort-of seized up. Her mouth fell open, but she couldn’t even gasp for breath. Every inch of her hurt. Something within her was being pulled tight, like a band. She thought she might have heard someone calling her name frantically, but it was barely audible past the roaring in her ears. The feeling of weight, of pressure, that had gradually grown as Harry lost touch with his magic the prior year seemed to fall on her all at once. The band of magic was pulled tight again so quickly that it snapped. She screamed.

Everyone around her jumped at the noise. They were staring at her as she continued to scream like a wounded animal. Her parents bolstered her, trying to comfort her as best they could, while they tried desperately to figure out what hurt, what was wrong. Remus had his wand out, quickly casting a diagnostic that came up with nothing specific. Only that she practically radiated magical energy for a few minutes.

Suddenly Cedric reappeared and the crowd exploded into cheers. No one, other than Harry’s family, seemed to notice how distraught and panicked he looked. Harry still hadn’t appeared and Cedric was crying. Something was very wrong. He said something, but the cheers were too loud for anyone to hear it. Mr. Diggory rushed onto the field and hugged his son, his face pure joy. Cedric shoved him off fiercely. 

“STOP IT! STOP IT!” Cedric shouted, his voice cracking. Mr. Diggory looked shocked and confused. Cedric looked like his entire world had been destroyed. “HARRY’S DEAD. HARRY POTTER IS DEAD.” The cheers very quickly stopped and the crowd fell silent. Jean and George froze in their seats. Several people gasped. The twins, several sections over, both paled significantly. Sirius Black’s world stopped and tilted. His hearing had gone wonky. That was it. He had heard Cedric wrong. Harry wasn’t dead. The adults could also see several members of the AA who looked like they were about to be sick.

“No,” Jean whispered. “No, please God no.” Her knees gave out and Sirius only  _ just _ caught her. George looked haunted. It couldn’t be true. Harry  _ couldn’t _ be  _ dead _ . People started murmuring to each other. Sirius kept himself guarded. They could fall apart later. Remus still held Hermione, his expression grim but determined. He and Sirius clearly shared the same thought; now they had to stay on guard.

“Ced,” Mr. Diggory started, laughing a little. “You must be mistaken.”

“HARRY POTTER IS DEAD AND I SAW VOLDEMORT KILL HIM,” Cedric declared in the loudest voice he could muster. 

Everyone froze. The stands were totally silent, people reacting to Voldemort’s name with expressions of fear, but not a word was spoken. Harry, the Quidditch hero, the winner of three house cups, the kid who seemed invincible. He’d thrown off the impossible every single year. He had faced Voldemort at eleven, retrieved the Philosopher’s Stone, killed a  _ basilisk _ , fought off an impossible curse… that kid couldn’t be  _ dead _ . Could he? 

Dumbledore gravely came forward. “Mr. Diggory, I think it would be best if you come with me and tell me everything,” he said. 

Viktor ran into the stands and gathered up Hermione, who had finally stopped screaming but now was sobbing hysterically; his arrival freed Remus to comfort George while Sirius held Jean, who was frozen in her disbelief that any of this was happening. Jean gave Viktor a brief and shaky, but grateful smile as she leaned into Sirius. 

Fleur stood awkwardly on the field just outside the hospital tent, looking small and lost. The remaining tournament judges milled about, uncertain what to make of the situation. The visiting students appeared to be in almost as much shock as the Hogwarts students. Katie caught Sirius’ attention when she suddenly vaulted from where she had been sitting and ran headlong into the maze. Several teachers went after her. 

“We should go,” Sirius said suddenly. He sounded worse than he had when they’d first met him after his escape from Azkaban. “Come on, we’ll take Hermione home.”

McGonagall was at the bottom of the stands looking old and tired. She caught the Grangers before they could chase down Cedric and Dumbledore. Remus brought up the rear of the stunned train of people. She quickly hurried them towards the castle before anyone could notice them leaving in the chaos. McGonagall made excuses to Viktor, and any of the visiting students who tried to follow them, sending everyone back to their own accommodations. Sirius and Remus focused on keeping Hermione moving as they all headed up the castle steps.

And that was the last time anyone saw Hermione Jean Granger as a student at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. We just did that.
> 
> Remember, the series is "Hermione Granger and the Child Protection Movement." We never promised everyone would make it all the way through... Proceed with your angry comments.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with Harry's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your comments and responses to the last chapter. We hope this one lives up to your hopes and dreams.

**Chapter 12**

Hermione was numb. She couldn’t feel any part of her body, couldn’t make anything move. They’d brought her home, but no one knew what to do next. They were too stunned. The last hour felt like a movie, not reality. Even her mind, usually spinning with alternatives and contingencies, was unusually silent. 

But some part of her was warming up. It was actually getting uncomfortably hot. Then Hermione remembered. The coin. She vaguely registered her mother crying in her father’s arms as she fished out her coin.

_ Find me. - Apollo _

Hermione stared at the message for a few heartbeats before the sender fully registered “He’s alive,” Hermione breathed.

* * *

Harry felt his feet slam onto the ground. He blinked and he registered he was no longer in the maze. He was no longer at Hogwarts. He was in the graveyard he’d been dreaming about.

“Hide,” Harry ordered Cedric in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Cedric asked, not understanding. “Harry what’s -”

“There’s no time,” Harry interrupted. “You need to go hide. When you get an opening, grab the cup and go for help. I think it’ll take you back to Hogwarts.”

“Harry, what are you -”

“Cedric, Voldemort is going to come after me. He wants  _ me _ . He’ll know that I’m here, but won’t know you came with, so you need to hide  _ now. _ ” 

A door opened and Cedric nodded. “Okay,” he agreed quietly.

Cedric started off for a good hiding spot. “Cedric,” Harry said. Cedric turned back. “If I die… if I die, don’t stay for my body.”

Cedric’s brow furrowed, but he nodded and ducked down just as Peter Pettigrew came out, holding a bundle. Lucius Malfoy was just behind Pettigrew. Harry tried his best to defend himself when the attacks came, but he was, after all, only fourteen and these were two fully grown wizards. It wasn’t five minutes before he was tied to a headstone. Harry looked up and read the engraving. Tom Riddle. 

Pettigrew put the bundle of cloth on a large rock, then waved his wand and a bone floated up and into Pettigrew’s grasp. Pettigrew dropped it in a cauldron that Harry was just noticing. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” Pettigrew recited. Pettigrew next brandished a large knife and extended his arm. His hand shook, but he drew back and cut off  _ his own hand _ . Harry’s jaw dropped. “F-f-flesh of the s-servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master,” Pettigrew continued in a whimper.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Oh stop snivelling,” he complained. Pettigrew ripped a piece of his robe off and wrapped it around his stub. Malfoy approached Harry with a cold smile. “Your last act, Potter, is going to revive Lord Voldemort.”

“Like hell!” Harry objected, trying to struggle out of the ropes. He heard a noise behind him, Malfoy froze and looked around for a few moments, before he brandished a dagger. Malfoy cruelly stabbed Harry in his side. Harry cried out.  _ Stay hidden _ , he prayed Cedric wouldn’t move. He’d promised Harry he wouldn’t. Malfoy was collecting Harry’s blood into a vial and handing it to Pettigrew.

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe,” Pettigrew said, pouring in the blood. The potion was bubbling and boiling, and Pettigrew picked up the bundle and dropped it in. 

_ Let it drown, _ Harry prayed.  _ Just let it drown. _

The bundle didn’t drown. Instead, it caught on fire. The fire was so hot the cauldron melted away, and the ball of cloth morphed into a man, fully clothed in a long black cloak. He had no nose, was completely bald, and had cold, cruel eyes. Lord Voldemort had returned.

Harry’s scar exploded, and he cried out in pain. After a moment, Harry found himself able to breathe again and found that he’d been let out of his bonds. “Hello Harry Potter,” Voldemort said. His voice was high and cold and cruel. “Welcome to your last night on Earth.”

There was movement behind him. Harry saw Malfoy, Pettigrew, and Voldemort’s eyes shift. 

“Someone must have come through with Potter,” Voldemort said. He raised his wand. Without thinking, Harry got up, running despite the sharp pain in his side, in the direction of the path between Voldemort and Cedric. “ _ AVADA,”  _ Harry took a flying leap. “ _ KEDAVRA _ !” 

There was a rush of green light. Then… nothing.

Harry blinked. He was lying on the floor of the sitting room at Potter Manor. He blinked a couple of times, then sat up. Had it been a dream? There was a shuffling on the ground and Harry saw a very wrinkled, disgusting creature. 

“Don’t touch it,” came a voice. Harry froze. He knew that voice. It was a voice he heard when Dementors got too close. He stood up and turned around. At the top of the grand staircase was a man with horned-rimmed glasses, hazel eyes, and Harry’s own face.

“ _ Dad _ ?” Harry breathed. James Potter, was indeed, now walking down the stairs and facing his son. Harry wasn’t that much shorter than James. 

“Hey speed demon,” James murmured, his eyes full of tears. He hugged Harry. Harry remembered Sirius telling him about his nickname in infanthood and felt tears well up in his eyes. He was being hugged by James Potter. His father. “I’m so proud of you.” James broke off the embrace. “You’re growing up so well…”

“Dad… am I… aren’t I  _ dead _ ?” Harry asked.

James smiled. “No, Harry. You’re not dead.”

“But I… I got hit by the killing curse,” Harry said, completely bewildered.

James nodded. “Yes you were,” he agreed. “But… and I could kill Dumbledore for hiding this… the thing Voldemort killed wasn’t  _ you _ . You see, within the Wizarding World, there are things that are so evil and vile, they are never talked about. Most people don’t know they exist, because they don’t want anyone getting any ideas. One of these is a way to split your soul. You have to kill someone, and then you can store the piece of soul in something, usually an inanimate object, which makes it a horcrux. Then when someone tries to kill you, you can’t die, because your soul is still bound to the Earth.”

“So… Voldemort made me his horcrux?” The idea was horrifying.

James looked sick. “One of them, yes, though it was an accident.”

“ _ One _ of them?” Harry felt sick. “How many times did he split his soul?”

“Including that thing,” James said, indicating the thing under the couch. “Seven.”

“Fuck,” Harry swore. “That’s sick.” 

James raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sirius. Both your mums would scold you for language, you know.”

Harry choked, then managed a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Mia would too. But anything else just seemed… inadequate.”

“I get it. I really do,” James agreed. “And you’re right, it’s completely sick. A person would have to be entirely insane in order to split their soul at all, let alone seven times.”

“So… how do we kill them?”

James paused. “I’m not allowed to tell you that. If you were staying, it’d be different, but under no circumstances am I allowing you to stay here with your Mum and I. You have to go back and live, kid. If that means defeating Voldemort, that’s fine, but if it doesn’t, that’s fine too. We’re proud of you either way. Your other parents are currently going out of their minds, and I’m not so selfish as to let their only son die so I can spend time with mine.”

“About the family…” Harry started awkwardly.

“The more the merrier,” James said with a smile. “We look forward to meeting them someday in person. For now, Lily and I are just happy that you’re loved and you’re not alone. And so, so thankful the Grangers got you away from  _ them _ .” A dark look crossed James’ face. “We’ve been watching over you. Your whole life we’ve been watching, and it killed me to have to see what Petunia and Vernon did to you. Her hatred of magic was just too great. The Grangers saved you in more ways than you know. I could never be mad at them for that.”

“But…” Harry started, and James shook his head.

“We’re not mad at you for it, either, Harry. I promise,” James assured him. “I’m proud of the man you’re becoming, and I’m proud of the family you and your sister have built. Never, ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” He smiled. “And give our love to Remus and Sirius, yeah? It’ll be hard, but we miss them too. Tell that Godfather of yours that you’re seriously overdue for a ride on your Godfather’s motorbike. You know, we used to ride motorbikes all around the country during the war. Sirius even took you up on his a couple of times. You loved every second of it. Just like you love playing Seeker.”

Harry smiled fondly. “Did Mum…” he started.

“Yes,” James said with such emphasis that all doubt was driven from Harry’s mind. “Lily said to send her love both to you and to Severus and to tell him she forgives him, both for what he called her and for what he did. We both do. These days… well, we understand Severus a little better. I hope… I hope that he and I can become friends some day. Regardless, let him know that I consider that life debt of his fulfilled about ten times over.”

“I’m… I’m glad you’re happy for me,” Harry admitted quietly. “I would’ve understood if you were mad, but I’m glad you’re not. I love my family, and I’m so much happier now than I was before… before Hogwarts. But I couldn’t help but wonder…”

“That’s natural, kid. Everyone has fears. Even Sirius and I, though we were loathe to admit it!” He grinned and Harry managed a smile back. “That’s better. Now when you wake up, remember that you’ve got your broomstick. You’ll be out of there before anyone can react.”

“Okay,” Harry said. 

“One more thing,” James said. “Lily wanted to pay back Remus the twenty galleons she owed him. Something about a bet regarding your first year at Hogwarts.”

Harry blinked and the world changed around him. He was back, laying on the cold, hard ground of the graveyard. Harry noticed more people in robes standing in a circle not far off, listening to Voldemort yelling about how he’d killed Harry Potter. As carefully as he could, Harry pulled out the shrunken broomstick and whispered, “ _ engorgio.”  _ The broomstick returned to normal size and lay next to him. Harry very slowly rolled over it, drew up his legs and  _ pushed _ as hard as he could. He shot off like a rocket. Someone gave a shout and Harry started dodging in a zig-zag formation. Spells were shot at him, but they missed. His vision swam, and Harry realized his side was still bleeding. 

Harry found the nearest town and ended up half-landing, half-crashing into an alley of some kind. Pulling out his coin, he sent Hermione a message, then passed out.

* * *

Hermione stared at the message for a few heartbeats before the sender fully registered “He’s alive,” Hermione breathed. No one heard her.

Jumping to her feet, Hermione held up her coin. “He’s alive!” she repeated joyfully. “Harry’s alive! We just need to go get him!”

“What?!” chorused the adult voices around her. George, Jean and Remus looked baffled; surprisingly, it was Sirius who zeroed in on the coin in her hand. 

“Where is he?” Sirius demanded.

“I put a locator spell on his coin. If I say the password, it’ll take this coin to Harry’s coin.”

“I’ll go,” Remus said, looking at Sirius. “I’m the calmest of the two of us. Let’s go outside first. I’ll disillusion myself and say the password. Then I’ll apparate Harry and I back.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Sirius thought.

Hermione shook her head. “No one has the password. I made our coins unique, so even if someone knows the password to one of the others, it doesn’t work on mine or Harry’s. Also, different passwords do different things. Mine and Harry’s are the most complex.”

“Remind me to boggle over how brilliant you are later, Kitten,” Remus said briskly. “For now, I need the coin and the password.” He held out his hand, clearly expecting her to comply.

She did. “The password is  _ coacervet _ ,” she told him once the coin was no longer in her possession.

They followed Remus out to the backyard. First he disappeared, fading away as if falling water were erasing his appearance. Then with a soft pop of displaced air, he was actually gone.

A minute passed, then two, then five. With a crack, Remus apparated into the backyard, holding an unconscious Harry in his arms. “He’s alive,” Remus said. “But he needs a healer.”

“I’m gonna firecall Andy,” Sirius said. “She’s my cousin. I trust her not to spill the beans.”

Sirius rushed into the house while George and Remus followed with Harry and settled him onto the couch. Harry’s side was sticky with blood. Jean went and got the first aid kit and Hermione felt for Harry’s pulse. She cried out in relief as she felt it, a bit weak, but still there, still steady.

Sirius removed his head from the fire. “Andy’s coming.”

He stood out of the way and a tall, no nonsense blonde came striding out of the fire. “What’s this huge emergency Sirius?” Andromeda Tonks asked without introducing herself.

“An injured child,” Sirius said flatly, knowing that would get her moving. They could explain afterward. He simply pointed her at the couch.

Andy immediately set to work, shooing everyone else out of her way. She magicked Harry’s cloak off, diagnosing with her wand while simultaneously pulling out potions from the bag she’d brought with her. She healed a stab wound in Harry’s side, then continued her diagnostics. For a second, she faltered. “That’s… not possible,” she muttered, redoing the spell.

“What?” Remus asked.

“There are traces of the killing curse on him,” Andy said. “And yet he’s still alive. This has only been seen…” she froze, recognizing the child and connecting the dots. “Harry Potter.”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “You know he’s my Godson, Andy.”

“This isn’t possible. The remnants of the killing curse are fresh. Within the last hour.”

“That tracks with what little we heard of Cedric’s story,” George agreed.

“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?” Andy demanded. 

“It was the third task tonight, Andy,” Sirius said. “Harry and the Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory, reached the cup at the same time, and I think they agreed to tie. They touched the cup at the same time and they disappeared. Five minutes later, Cedric reappeared, screaming that Voldemort had killed Harry Potter. When we got home… we got a message from Harry that he was still alive, so we found him and got him home and called you.”

“You’re saying that this boy had an unforgivable curse thrown at him.  _ Another _ unforgivable curse and he threw it off?” Andy demanded.

“Di’nt,” slurred Harry. “Saw Dad… Saw James…” Everyone stopped. 

George was the one who made it by Harry’s side first. “Harry?” 

“Here,” Andy said, handing George a potion. “Give him that.”

George did so without question. Jean however, needed reassurances. “What was that?” she asked.

“Blood Replenishing Potion,” Andy said. “He’s lost more than a bit from the wound.”

Harry was already trying to sit up. “I got hit by the curse,” he said softly. “And then I saw James... he told me the first time I was hit by the curse as a baby I was made into a horcrux.”

Andromeda, Sirius, and Remus jerked backwards, looking ill. “ _ What? _ ” Andy hissed.

“That’s how he’s been so unkillable,” Harry recited atonally. “He has seven horcruxes tying him here. Only tonight, he accidentally destroyed one.”

Sirius hissed. “That’s the blackest sort of dark necromancy,” he growled. “And I’m a Black, I should know.”

“Do you know how to get rid of them?” Harry ventured.

“No.” Sirius frowned. “But we could do some research in the family library.”

“If that’s how he’s tethered himself to this world,” Andromeda said, visibly pulling herself together, “I’ll gladly help. Assuming I’m able to set foot back onto Black properties.”

“What… what exactly is Harry talking about?” Jean asked. “What’s a horcrux?”

Remus sighed. “It’s… it’s a way of keeping yourself tied to living world,” he said.

“We got that,” George said. “We mean…”

Remus held up a hand. “In order to stay here, immortal, you have to tear your soul in two pieces, then hiding half of your soul within an object. But you lose your entire soul in the process, because once it’s torn, it’s not your soul any more. You have no morals, you can’t feel anything. You simply… are.”

“It’s not talked about,” Sirius said. “Even for those who practice Dark magic. This isn’t the type of magic that can be debated if it’s good or evil. This is evil, plain and simple. No debating it.” 

No one seemed to know what to say to that, so George turned his attention back to Harry. “How are you feeling, son?”

“Better, now,” Harry answered honestly. “Tired, though. And… well… today might be the most terrifying day I can remember, even if I did get to meet my first dad.”

“That’s understandable,” Jean said, reaching down to take Harry’s hand. “It was pretty terrifying for us, too.”

“We should probably let you rest, soon,” George said. “But is there anything else you think we need to know right away?”

Harry stopped to think. His body still hurt a bit, and he was really tired. Then he shrugged. “I don’t remember if I mentioned that  _ he’s _ back. I mean, they took my blood as part of a ritual to restore his body. And there were others there. Pettigrew. Mr. Malfoy, I think. I didn’t really recognize anyone else.”

“How did you get away?” Remus asked with a worried frown. 

“Woke up, got out my broom and kinda rolled onto it. They didn’t notice me until I was in the air, and my broom is faster than they could follow me,” Harry summarized.

“And then you remembered your coin,” Remus finished, nodding.

“Thank Merlin Hermione is brilliant enough to have made those things,” Sirius said emphatically. His comment seemed to remind everyone about Hermione, and suddenly everyone looked around for her.

Hermione sat silently on the floor, tucked into a corner with her knees drawn up to her chest. She had a clear view of the couch but was well out of anyone’s way. And out of sight of most of the adults, furniture between her and them. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream, now that Harry was safe. So she did nothing, keeping it all in her own head.

Harry had almost died.  _ Again _ . And she hadn’t been there to help him; no one had, even Cedric - who had obviously been there for most of it, until the Curse had been thrown. Part of her wanted to be angry that Cedric hadn’t been able to keep her brother safe. Another part of her knew Cedric hadn’t really been any better prepared to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters, despite being legally an adult.

Harry staggered off the couch and nearly face-planted, looking for his sister when no one spotted her right away. “Mia,” he called softly. 

Jumping to her feet, Hermione rushed forward and Harry wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t there,” Hermione cried. 

“You were when it mattered,” Harry said. “If it hadn’t been for you, I could have bled out.”

“You almost died,” Hermione sobbed.

“No I didn’t,” Harry said. “The curse killed the horcrux. I was safe. And I got to meet my Dad. He told me he was really proud of me. He was proud I found my family, that I bonded to you. He was so happy. I’m almost as tall as he was, now.”

“That’s true,” Sirius said, acting suspicious. “Andy, could it have been a hallucination?”

“I don’t think it was,” Harry said. “Dad said that Mum wanted me to give twenty galleons to Uncle Moony to pay out a bet they had about my first day at Hogwarts.”

Remus choked on his own spit. It took a minute for him to get over the coughing. “What?” he asked, his voice strained. “I never told anyone about that. Neither did she.”

“Moony?” Sirius asked. “What was the bet?”

“I bet her that Harry’d be a hatstall,” Remus said. “She thought he’d be pure Gryffindor, like she was. They know you know me?”

“Yeah. They’re happy we’re all together, and that I have a new family too.”

“I felt you die, Harry; at least I thought I did,” Hermione told him when her tears slowed a little. “The magic… it was like a rubber band snapped and the backlash hit me all at once. So when Cedric came back, and said you were dead… I knew it was true.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her tight.

“Maybe I should check Hermione over as well,” Andromeda offered when she’d calmed again. “That sort of magical impact could possibly have some side effects.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, please,” Jean agreed.

Andromeda did a quick check and decided Hermione would be fine after some sleep. She handed over a few vials of Dreamless Sleep. “Take these if you need them. Just for tonight, mind you, but you two need sleep to recover.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Sirius said, hugging her briefly. “We really appreciate your help. I don’t even want to think what kind of a madhouse Mungos would have been tonight.”

“You’re welcome, Sirius. I’ll be in touch about that research.” Andromeda bid the family good night and left via the floo.

Twenty minutes later, Jean came over with a stack of toasties for everyone. Everyone ate in relative silence. Harry was already nodding off, between the blood loss and the strain of losing a piece of soul he’d been carrying around with him his entire life. None of them were really content with the idea of letting Harry alone, so they transfigured the furniture into a bunch of beds and everyone slept within arms’ length of Harry, much as they had when he’d been poisoned. The kids took the dreamless sleep and the adults stayed up talking. Remus noticed, still having Hermione’s coin on him that people kept sending her messages; since he didn’t have the password to access them, they put the coin down in the unfinished basement so that it didn’t burn anything in the middle of the night due to the heat. 

* * *

At Hogwarts, meanwhile, no one was sleeping. Due to investigation of the tournament events, dinner had been delayed, so they were just sitting down to eat. The Great Hall was quieter than anyone could ever remember it. It was so quiet, they could hear the clink of utensils on dishes. Cedric sat at the Hufflepuff table, his eyes stunned and slightly out of focus. He had required several calming potions before they could get the full story out of him. He still hadn’t stopped crying, which was scaring everyone. His Hufflepuff friends kept trying to get him to eat, but Cedric just sat in stunned silence. 

Katie sat at the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins on one side and her best friends, Alicia and Angelina, on the other. They all picked morosely at their food, too upset to have any appetite. All Katie could think about was how Harry occasionally had to be reminded that it was okay to take seconds. How he held her hand while they ate, sometimes, just to be close. She knew it now; she loved Harry. And she’d never gotten to tell him about it. She’d never get to hold his hand again, or hear the way he laughed while flying, or see the way he looked at her, like she was everything he ever wanted. 

Katie accidentally let out a sniffle and Angelina pressed against her side. She shoved her food away, suddenly nauseous at the sight of the feast. As if everything would go on like normal. As if the world hadn’t suddenly gone on it’s head.

After dinner, Angelina and Alicia assured the twins that they’d look after Katie, and the members of the AA, including Melody, went to the library. They sat in silence, unsure what to say. After what seemed like hours, Cedric finally spoke. “He sacrificed himself for me,” he said softly. “He told me… he told me to go for help… and when I reached the cup… he dove between me and a killing curse. Why would he do that?”

“He loved his friends,” Luna said somberly. “He did not want you to die.”

“He’d do it for any of us,” Draco said, his voice cracking. “Hell, he’d even do it for his enemies. His stupid saving people thing.” Theo put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, looking grim. Everyone knew how Draco truly felt about it.

McGonagall and Snape came in, both unsurprisingly had signs of tears on their faces. Directly after the news of Harry’s death, Snape had been called away for several hours and had just returned. “Professor?” Neville ventured quietly. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She was taken home by her parents and uncles,” Snape answered in a low, solemn voice. “She… did not take the news well.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to,” Draco commented. “I don’t think… it doesn’t seem real.”

“I cost her brother his life,” Cedric said morosely. “I doubt she ever wants to see me again.”

“You are not to blame for Harry’s death,” Snape said carefully. “The only person responsible was Tom Riddle.”

“Hermione will understand that,” Luna spoke reassuringly. “She needs time to grieve, but she won’t blame you.”

“We should send her a message,” Melody suggested, her coin in her hand flipping idly between her fingers. “Reminding her that she has our support. The same way she always supported us.”

“I think we should all send our own messages,” Theo said thoughtfully. “Even if she doesn’t get them until morning, having six or seven messages waiting for her might help more than one from all of us.”

“I will take Miss Granger’s things back to her home tomorrow,” McGonagall informed them sadly. “If there is anything you wish to send with, please have it sent to my office by breakfast.”

“Yes, Professor,” the group agreed.

The group sat quietly for a while after the teachers left, each one considering what sort of message to send Hermione. One by one, messages were sent through their coins to her. Luna, Blaise and Fred sat down afterwards to write longer letters they could ask McGonagall to take with her. Hermione may not be at school, but they’d do everything possible to be there for her. She didn’t have to try to cope without her friends.

That was the whole point. None of them were ever alone anymore. So they put together a care package for her. They asked the house elves to make a couple of Hermione’s favorite snacks, Theo included a couple books he’d been meaning to lend her, and Luna somehow produced a thick, warm, and weighted quilt featuring all four Hogwarts houses. The group also insisted on staying together in the AA room. 

No response came from Hermione that night, but Luna pointed out that Remus or Sirius might have dosed her with a calming draught or even dreamless sleep. Melody agreed that sleep would probably be for the best, just from a medical perspective. Not that any of the group thought they’d sleep that night, but if Hermione could… they would try not to worry too much.

“Damn it all! It’s not  _ fair _ !” George burst out angrily, tears beginning to fall. “Why did it always have to be Harry? He didn’t deserve this. Hermione doesn’t deserve this. Bloody hell,  _ why _ ?!”

Melody paled. “Did… did anyone message Marcus?” she asked quietly. “This isn’t something he should learn via the Daily Prophet.”

“I did,” Adella answered softly, blinking back a fresh set of tears. “I wasn’t sure if he was here or not, since it seems like half his Department has been around for the tournament at some point. But… I thought he should hear it from me.”

“I hope he has someone to keep him company, then,” Cedric whispered.

“I’m glad we know Hermione does,” Luna murmured. “I… I can’t bear to picture her alone right now. I wish I could be there.”

“I think we all do,” Theo said, carefully reaching out to pat Luna’s hand. “I’d… I’d give her as many hugs as she needs right now.”

“Fudge gave me the tournament winnings while I was in the hospital wing,” Cedric revealed. “I… I have no idea what to do with it. I don’t really even want it. I’d rather…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Everyone seemed to grab onto a lighter topic to concentrate on, suggesting what Cedric could do with the money. Ideas varied from supporting the twins joke products to following Cedric’s dream job to Switzerland to funding a research project on Nargles. Cedric was also considering giving Harry’s share to Hermione; the others convinced him that Hermione would refuse outright if he offered her all of it. He didn’t push, knowing the others needed to continue the lighter turn of conversation, and started asking Luna what sort of environment one would need to study Nargles.

They stayed in their room all night; Madam Pince didn’t even realize they were still in the Library when curfew rolled around. Rather than leave, they asked the house elves for pillows and blankets. They slept on the couches, the armchairs and even the floor; anything that let them stay together would work.

Snape provided dreamless sleep for everyone, so everyone thankfully slept fairly peacefully. Neville quietly delivered the care package to McGonagall’s office before going to breakfast.

Fleur and Viktor were both sitting together at the Gryffindor table. Fleur was red-eyed and both looked like they hadn’t slept much. Neville felt his coin warm and heard several chairs shifting, leading him to believe Hermione had possibly responded to everyone at once. He retrieved his coin from his pocket and stared at the message. 

_ Hope never dies. - Apollo _ . 

Neville glanced over at Fred and George, then Cedric and Luna and he could tell that everyone got the message. Eyes began to light up as not just the message, but the sender, began to register with everyone who saw it.

Ten students, from all houses, abandoned their breakfasts and dashed out of the Great Hall. Fred and George paused to grab a bewildered Fleur, Katie and Viktor, hauling them out of the Hall as well.

Harry was alive!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, we're not going to apologize for the last couple of chapters. That said, we really appreciate all the thoughts, feelings and reactions everyone shared with us. So thank you for being amazing readers.

**Chapter 13**

Harry woke up early the morning after the third task. It took him a moment to remember where he was and why. He had nearly died last night. He had seen his birth father. He had spent the last fourteen years with a horcrux attached to him. 

Harry sat up carefully, testing the recently healed muscles from where Malfoy had cut him. He seemed to be healing well, and he was glad. It would help them all to put last night behind them if they didn’t have his injury as a constant reminder.

Sirius, who was lying on the mattress next to his and had had an arm strewn across Harry’s chest, woke up immediately. Seeing Harry awake, he gestured to Harry and led his godson into the kitchen, where Sirius started tea. Harry, craving normality, got out the ingredients for a fry up for the whole family. Sirius put a silencing charm on the kitchen so they could talk without waking the others.

“How are you doing this morning?” Sirius asked. Harry shrugged, counting the eggs they had and calculating in his head how many they’d need. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Sirius continued. “I know that now that the adrenaline is gone… but you do need to talk to someone about it eventually. It doesn’t have to be me. Just know that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know. Just… not right now,” Harry hedged, assembling his ingredients on the counter. He focused his attention on preparation, trying to ignore his Godfather’s worried gaze on his back.

“All right,” Sirius agreed, realizing Harry wasn’t ready. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Harry agreed readily, relaxing just a bit when it looked like Sirius wouldn’t push for the moment. When Sirius sat down across from him, Harry passed over a block of cheese and the grater. Sirius still wasn’t much of a cook on his own, but he was good at following instructions for preparation.

Remus woke next, snapping awake quickly when memory of the previous day returned. A glance around and then towards the kitchen told him where Harry and Sirius had likely gone and Remus relaxed with a sigh. Rather than interrupt the pair in the kitchen, he moved to Hermione’s side and ran his wand over her in a quick diagnostic.

She wouldn’t likely sleep much longer, but her magic seemed calm and healthy, and that was definitely good. Her expression was peaceful, relaxed, and he was glad she’d slept undisturbed. Today they would have to deal with the aftermath of yesterday’s events, and that likely involved a pair of traumatized children. Even if they would try to be brave about it.

“Morning, Remus,” Jean’s soft voice made Remus blink and look over at her.

“Morning, Jean. Harry and Sirius are in the kitchen,” he told her in a low murmur.

Jean nodded. “I’ll go change, then check on breakfast. Knowing Harry…” Remus just nodded in return. Jean padded quietly up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Hermione woke all at once. She bolted upright, but Remus caught her before panic caught up to her mind. “Shh, kitten. Harry’s fine. He’s in the kitchen with Sirius.”

She blinked silently up at him for a moment, then burrowed into his embrace. “Okay,” she whispered. Remus held her gently, rocking just a bit as they sat together. Hermione wasn’t crying, but her shoulders were tense and he could tell she was thinking hard. So he just let her lean on him for a while.

“Your coin got extraordinarily hot last night,” he told her after a little while. “We had to put it in the basement, because your mum was worried it might set something on fire.”

“My coin?” Hermione sat up straight. “Oh, Merlin! The others! They all still think Harry’s dead!”

Remus’ eyes went wide. “We didn’t send a message back to the school last night. I’d better take care of that…”

Hermione wasn’t listening. She raced down to the basement and snatched her coin up off the floor. She skimmed through almost a dozen messages, all reaching out to her in comfort and support. It made her smile, even as she felt guilty for not thinking of them sooner. Instead of standing around, though, she hurried back up the stairs and to the kitchen.

“Harry!” she said, calling his attention as she crossed through the silencing spell. “The group… we forgot…” she panted.

“Oh!” Harry paused in his cooking, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his own coin. He concentrated for a moment, then whispered his password to send a message to everyone. Hermione looked down at her hand and accessed the message immediately.

_ Hope never dies. _

She smiled. 

After breakfast, Jean and George went to work for a short while, promising to be home as soon as they could. The rest of them all settled around Harry on the couch and read. It wasn’t too long before the fire flared green, indicating that someone was coming through the floo. Sirius and Remus gripped their wands and moved so that Harry was blocked from view of the fireplace. They relaxed, however, when they saw McGonagall with Hermione’s trunk come through the fire.

“Oh, good, Minnie, it’s you,” Sirius said.

“How many times have I told you to  _ never call me that _ , Mr. Black?” McGonagall hissed. Sirius moved back to sitting down on the floor next to Harry.

“I saw your message this morning,” McGonagall said. “Professor Snape wanted to join me, but we feared it would draw too much attention. I’m here as I, and the entire school, assumed you’d be pulling Miss Granger out of Hogwarts, so I came to deliver her things.”

“Jean and George are at work,” Remus noted. “They’d like for me to ask you about Harry’s things.”

“The ministry is currently demanding that they take custody of his things and his possessions,” McGonagall revealed. “Unfortunately for them, certain members of the house are making it rather difficult for anyone to gain entry who doesn’t belong there, particularly to Harry’s dorm room.” Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Fred and George. “I can’t endorse it officially, of course, but it is a fairly impressive bit of magic.”

“So if, say, a certain Godfather came to the tower to collect his things?”

McGonagall nodded. “You  _ would _ be granted access. I certainly have. Now, given the past twenty-four hours, I think I’d like to hear the whole story of what happened, Mr. Potter.”

Harry told the story of what happened after he touched the cup with Cedric, speaking in a cold, impassive tone. If McGonagall noticed that he’d skipped over whom he’d met in the ‘afterlife,’ she didn’t comment.

“I’m sorry that I failed you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said stiffly when the story concluded.

“You didn’t,” Harry began.

“I did,” McGonagall countered. “We all did. By our inability to keep you out of the Tournament, by not realizing the Cup had been tampered with, by not considering the lengths to which people would go to get you off the school grounds. Yes, Mr. Potter, we have indeed failed you. On many occasions.”

“She isn’t wrong,” Sirius said, resting a hand on Harry’s arm. “There should have been more we could have done.”

“Other than those we contacted, who knows the truth?” Hermione asked, heading off an argument.

“As far as I know, they have told Mr. Krum and Miss Delacoeur,” McGonagall stated. “Other than that? I do not believe the news has made it out yet.”

“It probably shouldn’t,” Remus said thoughtfully. “If the Death Eaters think Harry escaped only to die elsewhere, it should definitely get Harry out of the line of fire. At least until we can discuss future plans with Jean and George.”

McGonagall nodded. “I thought you might say something of the sort. Rest assured, I shall keep it to myself as long as I can. Albus will be suspicious, though.”

“We can deal with that,” Sirius shrugged it off. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Could someone… I mean… could you please make sure Katie knows I’m alive?” Harry asked softly. “I just mean, she’s not part of the AA, so she doesn’t have a coin. I was going to ask Hermione for one to give to her so we could talk over the summer, but…”

McGonagall’s expression softened for a moment and she nodded. “I will speak with her today, Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, looking down.

Harry was pretty quiet for a while after McGonagall left. It wasn’t until Jean came home that he even moved. Jean, however, demanded he move the way that only a Mum could. “Harry Potter, get up right now,” she demanded. “You and I are going to make dinner together.”

Harry followed her without a word. They decided to make pork pies for dinner. Silently, Jean banished the others upstairs when Harry wasn’t looking. They prepped the filling, then put it in the ice box to chill while they made the dough. Somewhat predictably to Jean, she saw tears in his eyes when he started to knead the dough, and pretty soon he broke down sobbing. Jean caught him just as his knees gave out and lowered the pair of them slowly to the floor. Harry was quite a bit larger than Jean at this point, but she didn’t care. She held him close, rocking him, and let him cry. 

When his tears had quieted, she spoke. “I went out of my mind when you disappeared. I had been so proud of how well you were doing that I completely forgot your life was actively in danger. Parents are supposed to protect children from life-threatening things, and to have you go through…” Jean choked up and was forced to stop.

“I wasn’t scared,” Harry said quietly. “I know it seems… I didn’t have time to be scared. I was too busy trying to watch my back and Cedric’s to be scared. And then… It didn’t hurt. It was like blinking. All of a sudden, I was back at the Manor and Dad… James was there. And he was telling me he was proud of me and that he loved me…”

“Did you want to stay?” Jean asked curiously. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You’ve never gotten the chance to spend time with your birth parents, nothing in life has exactly been easy for you. A chance to be done with all that… I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I thought about it,” Harry said slowly. “Dad didn’t really offer it as an option though. He said I needed to live. And… and he said…” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “he said he wasn’t selfish enough to take away your son, just so he could spend some time with his…”

Jean pulled him in tightly. “I’m so glad. I don’t blame you for wanting to stay; I truly don’t. But I’m happy he wouldn’t let you, and he sounds like a wonderful man. We’re not ready to lose you, son.”

“I’m sorry I jumped in front of the curse,” Harry said, a fresh wave of tears appearing. “I didn’t think. I just sorta reacted. It was so stupid.”

Jean considered carefully before answering; she brushed his tears away gently while doing so. “I can’t say it makes me happy that you did so,” she said slowly. “But I do understand that protective instinct. I would do the same for you, or for Hermione, even if I didn’t know what the curse would do to me. What I will ask you to do in the future, though, is consider very carefully whether the risks you take are worth the end result. This time, it did no permanent harm. Next time, we might not be so lucky.”

Harry tilted his head, not entirely sure why he wasn’t being scolded more harshly. “I… I don’t understand.”

“You know, Hermione nearly tried to follow you into that maze,” Jean said quietly. “She saw something happen that wasn’t supposed to, and she really wanted to act on it.” She gave Harry a small smile. “It makes me proud to have raised children who love deeply, who care enough to take risks in order to do the right thing. Who understand that the  _ easy _ or  _ safe _ path is not always the right one. But it also scares me to know that same inclination to act in the name of what’s right will lead you to put yourselves in danger.”

“Am I grounded again?” Harry asked a bit meekly. 

Jean laughed. “Yes,” she said. “But only for a week. And we want you to stay inside unless you have an adult with you until further notice.”

Harry nodded. “It’s less than I deserve, I suppose.”

Shaking her head, Jean said, “No, it’s not. You did the best you could in a situation you should never have been put into, Harry. However, we are going to have a serious discussion about school. For yourself and Hermione; for reasons I’m sure I need not list, we no longer believe Hogwarts is a safe place for either of you.”

“I guess cheating death five times before I’m fifteen is kinda dangerous,” Harry said ruefully. “For the record, Dad… James… thinks you’re really great. Both of you. They’ve been watching over me. And he’s not mad that I have more than one set of parents now.”

“Good,” Jean said protectively. “If he had a problem with it, he’d have to answer to me.”

“The rest of it was pretty scary,” Harry finally admitted, feeling safe for the first time since the graveyard. “Voldemort was this shrivelled up thing… and they used some kind of ritual and potion to bring him back to life. Pettigrew cut off his entire hand to it, and Malfoy, Draco’s father stabbed me and added my blood to it.”

“You’re safe now,” Jean said, her voice tight. “No one can touch you here. Not behind the blood wards.” 

Harry suddenly stiffened. “The blood wards!” he exclaimed. “Voldemort… he has my blood! Can he get past the wards?”

“No Harry, no,” Jean reminded him. “No one who means you harm can get past the wards, remember?”

“Oh,” Harry said, relaxing. “Right.”

“You’re safe here,” Jean repeated. “And if you need us all to sleep in the same room or need us to stay at the manor or whatever, we’ll do it to make you feel safe.”

“The manor… Mum, maybe we should?” Harry ventured. “If Voldemort is alive and back in… well, mostly-human form, our friends are in trouble too. The ones whose parents follow  _ him _ , they’re definitely not safe to go home.”

“You want us to move to the manor… so we can invite your friends to shelter with us?” Jean asked thoughtfully.

“We did discuss using the Potter properties as safe houses. Not many people know where they are, and fewer can actually find them,” Harry reminded her. “Plus, if the blood wards come with us to keep me safe, they’d keep everyone else safe too.”

“Well… we were going to have to track down tutors for the others, in order to keep up on their school work,” Jean mused. “If we do this, and I do mean  _ if _ , I don’t want any arguments from you or your sister about not returning to Hogwarts.”

Harry ducked his head, then nodded. “I think I can convince Hermione, if she isn’t just due to circumstances.”

“Right. Let’s get dinner finished, and we’ll call the others in for a family meeting,” Jean said briskly. Harry climbed to his feet and turned to help her up in turn. It startled him a little to realize he was taller than she was, and that helping her up was easy.

Harry washed his face, then they returned to cooking dinner. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to withdrawing from Hogwarts, especially if the AA would be with him. He wondered if maybe some of their recent graduates would be interested in helping tutor the rest; they’d all studied together often enough.

By the time the rest of the family had gathered at the table, Harry was almost excited about staying away from Hogwarts. Maybe his life wouldn’t be in danger over the next year. Maybe he could actually be relatively normal. He was fairly certain that the adults weren’t going to let him participate in the War, but he wasn’t entirely opposed to that. 

“Are we going back to Hogwarts?” Hermione asked curiously and pointedly after everyone was finished eating and the table cleared of dishes.

The adults all froze and looked at each other. “We don’t think it’s a good idea, sweetheart,” George said gently.

“What?” Hermione asked. “But… Harry’s okay! Next year is OWL year! We can’t miss classes during OWL year!”

“Harry’s healing, true, but he very nearly died,” George said somberly. “He’s had too many close calls, and we don’t think Hogwarts is a safe place for either of you anymore.”

Hermione bit back her automatic protest to give some serious thought to what her father was saying. “Okay. So what options do we have for study? OWLs fifth year and NEWTs in seventh year are a lot like A-levels. Without them, we don’t have the credentials to pursue careers.”

“I suggested moving to the Manor, and inviting the AA members who need to hide to stay with us,” Harry offered. “We could all study together.”

“Private tutors are also available; homeschooling isn’t entirely uncommon,” Sirius added. “It might be a little harder to find tutors willing to work with a dozen students of differing years, but it should be possible.”

“That sort of compromises the security of the manor and our pureblood friends, though,” Hermione fretted. “Unless they also want a place to hide and are living in…”

“Moony could always be your tutor,” Sirius suggested. “He got Os in all his classes and I have it on good authority he was your best Defense Professor.”

Hermione perked up. “That’s an option. I wonder if Professors McGonagall and Snape could also donate some time. Is there anyone else who could help who’s in our inner circle?”

“We could maybe make Adella an offer? She’s graduating this year, and she’s always been on top of her class,” Harry suggested. “And… maybe Fleur? I know she’s not part of our group, but she also doesn’t have any ties to the Death Eaters. They don’t like half-Veela.”

“Three instructors for twelve students isn’t a bad ratio,” Remus said, “Assuming that everyone in the AA goes into hiding, which won’t necessarily happen.”

“True. Neville and Luna likely won’t need to,” Hermione replied. “Adella and Cedric are of age, so they’re less likely to be in danger from their parents. They don’t have to go back home if they choose not to. I’m also not sure about our first and second years. Some of them might or might not. It’s hard to tell. They’re young enough that even if their home situations aren’t good, they’re also not too likely to be useful to the Death Eaters yet.”

“It is possible that even the ones who don’t need to escape might choose to come anyway, in order to support you,” Sirius pointed out. “If something like this had happened to James, Remus and I would’ve been right there - necessary or not.”

“Luna and Neville might not need to join us, but I think they likely will,” Harry agreed with Sirius. “Neville does have other friends in our House, and his Gran isn’t a Voldemort supporter, but we’re the family he hasn’t had before. And Luna… Hermione, I think you’re her best friend. I think she’d do anything, if it meant being here for you.”

“I have a feeling Cedric will join you,” Remus added thoughtfully. “Yes, he’s of-age, but he’s fiercely loyal. Not only to you but to the rest of the AA. My question is, how do you plan to get them to the Manor?”

“We were thinking a Portkey could work,” Hermione explained. “If they’re seen on the Express, but don’t get off at Platform 9¾ we think their parents won’t assume that they just didn’t come home.”

“Clever,” Sirius noted. “Though it’s illegal to create a Portkey without ministry permission.” 

Harry just looks at his uncles. “Because that ever stopped you before? I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be an animagus without registering with the ministry too.”

Sirius winced. “I admit I didn’t set… the best example growing up. You’re right though, we’re at war and some laws are going to have to be bent a little for the sake of safety. I just want everyone to be aware of the possible consequences.”

Jean sighed. “Very technically, what we’re doing could be considered kidnapping. These are students who are mostly legally underage, and thus not actually allowed to decide to go home or not… well, compared to that what’s an illegal Portkey?”

“Forcing a child to live in an unsafe household ought to be illegal, too,” Sirius grumbled. “All right. As long as we’re all together on this, I’ll do my part.”

“I really don’t like the idea of kidnapping these children, willing or not,” George sighed heavily. “But I like even less knowing that by sending them home, we leave them in the position of being forced into becoming criminal followers of a madman.”

“I’ll see if I can convince Minerva to share a copy of next year’s book list with me,” Remus offered. “It may be for the best if we only tell her we’re planning to keep the children safe, not how or where. At least initially. She and the school will be under a lot of scrutiny immediately following the disappearance.”

“Is it kidnapping if they’re running away and they’re free to leave whenever they want?” Harry asked philosophically. “Most of them are only a year younger than Sirius was when he ran away and went to the Manor. And would it be called kidnapping if there was evidence that they’d be forced to become Death Eaters if they went to their parents?”

“After the fact, no, most likely not,” Remus agreed. “As long as those same families are in charge of the Ministry? That changes things.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. “Does that mean you don’t want to help them?” Harry asked the adults.

The adults all traded a look, then shook their heads. “That’s not it,” George said calmly. “But we’ve always told you both to always consider everything you know before you make a decision, and we need to do the same thing.”

“When working against a corrupt government, obeying all laws isn’t always possible. Especially some that should never have been in place to begin with,” Hermione said quietly. “We’re fighting a war against people who don’t believe we should even exist.”

“And that’s why we’re taking these decisions very seriously,” Jean assured her daughter. “Just because we need to consider every aspect of a decision doesn’t mean we are opposed to it.”

“So, if I’m hearing everyone right, this would be the plan,” Hermione began, getting a shrunken notebook and pen out of her pocket. She tapped the notebook and it grew to normal size, where she started jotting down an outline. “We move to Potter Manor, most likely. Pack up, close up the house, whatever we need to do here. We send a Portkey to the AA members at Hogwarts with an invitation for those who feel safer not going home, or who just want to support the group, to join us there from the Express in a few weeks. Over the summer, we work together and possibly with a few people we trust to create a study curriculum for next school term, and none of us go back to Hogwarts in September.”

“Our friends coming with all their school-year belongings will have clothes, books, and probably some supplies,” Harry continued. “Which probably means we have some of the books we’ll need, plus plenty of copies for Luna and the younger years to study from. We can owl order from Flourish & Blotts and some of the other shops that supply school items, so we won’t have to risk a trip to Diagon Alley. About the only thing we might need to take people there for would be to get out money; as far as I know, Gringotts requires a person to be physically present in order to access their vaults.”

“Not if they have wand scans set up and pre-approved for withdrawals,” Sirius clarified. “In order to set those up, they would need to be present, yes, but I have plenty of money and I’m happy to pay for school supplies. I’m pretty sure that I make more in interest every year.”

“We’ll be saving on school tuition, too,” George added. “We can throw that in for supplies or paying tutors or whatever.”

“Oh! We should probably make sure that Gringott’s knows I’m not actually dead,” Harry said suddenly.

“They should know; there’s magic that allows them to follow family lines,” Remus explained. “But if you want them to divert your school funds for private schooling instead, we should talk to them.”

“Is it possible to make a private appointment and arrive via Floo or some other means, so Harry isn’t seen?” Jean asked worriedly.

“Appointment, yes. But the bank isn’t connected to the Floo network.”

“What if I went, with a letter bearing Harry’s magical signature?” Hermione suggested. “I have full access to the accounts, as his sister.”

“You have access to my accounts too, Mia,” Harry revealed. “You don’t need my magical signature. You have just as must access to them as I do.”

“Proof for the goblins, in case the Ministry is bothering them?” Hermione suggested, then shrugged. “If you don’t think it’s needed, then I can just go. I’m sure between Dad and Sirius, I’d be safe enough for a short trip. Especially if the Ministry is still sitting on actual news and spinning lies to the paper.”

“I mean,” Harry said quietly. “I’m happy to go, but I’m pretty recognizable…”

“We’d glamor you,” Remus said. “Here, let me show you.” Remus waved his wand, then paled slightly. Sirius looked at Remus in confusion, conjured a mirror and passed it to Harry. Harry’s eyes widened. He had no scar on his forehead, and was red-haired and brown-eyed. He looked more like a member of the Weasley clan then a Potter. It was strange. “That shouldn’t have done that,” Remus muttered.

“What shouldn’t have done what?” Sirius asked. Harry looked up from looking at himself in the mirror.

Remus waved his wand a couple times. “When I was teaching at Hogwarts, I asked Filius if they had tried anything to cover up Harry’s scar, since it’s rather conspicuous and I know how much you like your privacy. Filius said they had tried all manner of things, from the strongest glamor to potions… anything short of Polyjuice and the scar would still show. Always. It was assumed that it was a side-effect of surviving a killing curse.” 

Harry looked in the mirror again. “But the horcrux is gone… so that must be why I can cover the scar.”

Remus nodded. “It also means you can  _ remove _ your scar if you want to.”

Harry became quiet, unable to say anything. Jean hip-checked him. “You don’t have to make any decisions now,” she said. “But we’ll stand behind whatever you decide.”

Though Harry deferred a decision about his scar for the moment, the family decided that Jean and Sirius would take Harry and Hermione to Gringotts, all of them under a glamour to look like a different family. They would advise the goblins in advance, when the appointment was scheduled, and Harry’s account manager would be the only one to see them without the glamours.

Venturing into Diagon Alley when it wasn’t summer hols was always strange but it was even stranger wearing a glamour. No one even looked at him as they continued their conversations about Harry Potter’s death openly. “Such a tragedy,” Florean Fortescue could be heard saying to a patron as he spelled the windows of his ice cream shop clean. “He was always a very polite, mature boy. If anyone would have deserved a good long life surrounded by people who loved him, it was Harry.”

It was a nice thing to hear being said, but also very strange to hear himself spoken of in the past tense. Harry tried not to let it bother him, but he was grateful when they arrived at Gringotts. They didn’t have to pause to listen to the gossip of people waiting in line, as they were right on time for their appointment. Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they were safely ensconced in the manager’s office.

They made the necessary arrangements easily enough, and if the goblins were surprised by the idea of Harry and Hermione not returning to Hogwarts, they didn’t show it. Instead, they were assured again that goblins do not speak of their clients’ business to others, not even the Ministry. Shortly thereafter, the four were re-glamoured and leaving the bank. They stopped at Flourish & Blotts to pick up some additional mail order forms before returning home.

Hermione set to work outlining each year’s curriculum based on her recollection from her and others experiences with Hogwarts. Any time she got stuck, Remus assisted, based on the notes he had from his time at Hogwarts.

Another thing that happened was that Sirius went to Gringotts and transferred the contents of the vault of his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, to a vault she couldn’t access. Sirius currently had access to all of Bellatrix’s assets, as she was in Azkaban and he was the head of the family. As Sirius proved, escape from Azkaban was not impossible, so if Bellatrix managed to get out, Sirius wanted to restrict her resources as tightly as possible. To ensure there wasn’t anything dark or cursed in Bellatrix’s vault, Sirius hired several goblins to check every single item in the vault.

“I set up regulations that if they’re ever cleared of all charges and legally released, they’ll get a stipend that will allow them to live reasonably comfortably. I mean, it’ll never happen, they’re about as guilty as can be,” Sirius explained at dinner that night. “But under the conditions, they would not be allowed to interact with any known Death Eaters and Bella would have to see a mind healer.”

“Mind healer?” Jean asked curiously. 

Sirius winced. “Bella,” Remus started carefully. “Bella is…”

“She’s nuts,” Sirius said bluntly. “She refused to denounce Voldemort, even in front of the court to save herself. She’s repeatedly bragged about the people she’s tortured and killed.”

Hermione blinked. “Can they read a therapist or psychiatrist in on the wizarding world? I didn’t think St. Mungos had therapists.”

“They don’t,” Remus confirmed. “Despite magic allowing for advanced healing methods of some things, they have even less idea of brain chemistry or what makes people insane than muggles do. There are mind healers who can address certain traumas, but they still rely on magic to do it. So yes, someone would have to approve and brief a therapist if one is needed. But it could be done. It’s even possible that if someone actually asked around, there might be a licensed therapist among the families of muggle-born witches and wizards. They already know about magic.”

“If not, we could see if Harry’s therapist, or one of the others in that office, might be willing to go through whatever process to get approved,” Jean suggested. “We’ve had some good experiences there.”

“I think first and foremost, we have to win this war,” Remus said. “Dumbledore sent an owl this morning. Apparently, he’s restarting the Order of the Phoenix, when we’re ‘ready’.”

Sirius sighed. “I honestly don’t know what to do about all that. We’ve got a plan - destroy the six horcruxes, take down Voldemort, then possibly take down the Ministry.”

The fireplace erupted into green flames and Snape stepped out. “My apologies,” the potions professor softly said. “This was my first opportunity that I could get away.” He paused, looking around the room. He zeroed his gaze in on Harry. “You’re alive,” he said succinctly. “But, Mr. Diggory was certain that you’d been hit by a killing curse.”

Everyone glanced around at each other, unsure how to explain. Harry, who’d been quietly listening to the discussion, still rather tired, stood up and faced the professor. “I am… and I was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, yeah. He was. But how's Snape going to take it? One more chapter to go!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story concludes.

* * *

 

**Chapter 14**

Snape’s eyes widened imperceptibly. “You were… what?”

“I was hit by a killing curse,” Harry said softly. “For a few moments… I was dead.” Harry could see Snape’s brain working to try to work out how Harry could have survived the impossible twice. His face was pinched as he processed the fact that Harry should have died. It was a testament to how much Snape cared about Harry to see the haunted look he gained.

“Voldemort accidentally created a horcrux of himself when Harry was a baby and it attached to Harry,” Remus interjected. Snape turned slightly green. “We received information that Voldemort has formed six other horcruxes.”

Snape went from green to almost puce. “How did you come about this information?” he ground out, his voice sharp with shock.

“Keeping in mind that we’ve confirmed this actually happened, due to two pieces of information that I couldn’t have known about that Remus and Sirius confirmed were true… James Potter,” Harry said slowly. He was starting to list to one side.

Fed up, Jean suddenly stood and, tisking loudly, strode over to Harry. “Sit down before you fall over,” she lectured. “Professor Snape, I assume you’re going to be here a little while. Would you like a cuppa?” Sirius conjured a comfortable chair for Snape to sit in, which he did so a little heavily.

“Yes, please,” Snape said faintly. “You really…. _James Potter_?”

“He told me about a bet between Remus and Lily that neither of them had told anyone about, and about a story that Sirius had never told me, who later confirmed it,” Harry explained. “James... he said that he and Lily forgave you. Both for what you said to her and for joining up. He said he understood now, a little better. I think having to watch me with the Dursleys… anyway, James also said that he considers the life debt fulfilled.”

If he hadn’t already been sitting, Snape might have fallen into his chair. Instead, he clutched the teacup Jean handed him like a lifeline. “I…” He closed his eyes, visibly collecting himself. “Very well. James Potter has informed you there are six more horcruxes. Was he able to tell you what they are?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I sorta had the feeling he was pushing the boundaries of what’s allowed by telling me as much as he did. I really only know that, including me, there were seven made.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Harry! Do you think the diary we destroyed in second year might have been one, too?” she asked excitedly. “We might only have five left!”

Nodding thoughtfully, Harry looked at his sister. “I think you might be right. I mean, the fact that a shade of Tom Riddle tried to come back to life by stealing from Ron and Ginny would seem to fit the mould of a horcrux.”

“That would suggest these objects can be destroyed by basilisk venom,” Snape spoke up; it still occasionally surprised him to see these children making sudden leaps of logic, but he did his best to keep his surprise to himself. “That could be… useful. I did keep some for personal use, when we harvested ingredients from the remains in the Chamber.”

“I think the sword I used to kill it might still have some on it, too,” Harry added. “Though I don’t actually know what happened to it afterwards. Maybe Fawkes took it back.”

“I believe Albus keeps it in his office,” Snape offered. “Considering you were an accident, and the diary belonged to him as a child, I would think the objects would have to be carefully chosen. They couldn’t be something that would easily be lost or idly given away.”

“So items of personal value, or possibly of heirloom quality,” Hermione said, making a mental note. “They could have been items he found, though, or that were given to him by his followers. He does have some of the wealthiest purebloods in his… retinue.”

“Which doesn’t really narrow things down any,” Sirius finished. “I can probably have the Goblins give me a list of items that were at one point kept in the family vaults that were removed and never returned. That might at least give us a starting point.”

Harry had had his ‘thinking’ face on ever since Hermione had brought up the diary, and his eyes suddenly widened. “It was attempted murder,” he said softly.

The others looked at each other. “Harry?” George asked.

“Not… the diary. It was attempted murder,” Harry clarified. “Ginny said she found it in her things. So Voldemort gave it to a Death Eater for safe keeping, Malfoy I’m going to guess, and Malfoy tried to bring him back via the diary by trying to kill Ginny Weasley.”

The expressions of every adult in the room darkened. “So you’re saying that not only did someone - Malfoy, you believe - try to bring back Voldemort, but he tried to do so by killing an eleven year old girl,” Sirius all but growled.

“It certainly looks that way,” Hermione said unhappily; she agreed with Harry, though. It had to have been done with purpose. Ginny wouldn’t have just found the diary someplace in Diagon.

“Malfoy was there that day, remember?” Harry asked Hermione. “He was in Dumbledore’s office with the Weasleys when we went up there. And then there’s the fact that there’s a huge blood fleud raging between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley because Lucius got away with being a Death Eater by donating money. Do you think he came to… I don’t know… revelle in the results?”

“We should ask Draco,” Hermione said. “When they get to the Manor.”

“Which reminds me,” Snape said. “I will have a copy of your Potions assignments for next year, as well as those for Mr. Diggory and Miss Lovegood, ready for you within a few weeks of the end of term. Each lesson will contain the necessary instructions, and you will each label your potions by lesson and student. I will grade them for you when I’m able to visit. You will have competent instructors for the most part, and I trust they can keep you from blowing yourselves up, but I wish to ensure you will all pass your OWLs and NEWTs.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied with a small smile. “I’m sure we’ll all do better with your instructions.”

“I believe Professor McGonagall is working on the rest for you. Point of fact, we submit our lesson plans to the Deputy Headmistress for approval every year, though mine haven’t changed much in some time. I’m adding a few defensive potions to the fifth and sixth year rotation. Seventh year, I’ll be including lectures on _how_ to use them.”

Remus watched the two kids exchanging glances and smirked. “I suspect these two may end up working ahead a bit.”

“It’s only smart to know how to use the potions we can make,” Hermione pointed out. “And if things go horribly wrong, we might not have easy access to someone who knows what we don’t.”

Jean put her face in her hands. “While eminently practical, darling, I wish that sort of worst-case scenario wasn’t the first thing you feel it necessary to consider.”

“To be fair, with Ron Weasley and Neville in our class, it kind of paid be prepared in case one of them added the wrong ingredient to a potion. Though that happens much more often with Ron than with Neville these days,” Harry quipped.

“Working around the two of them was as much about learning when to duck as anything else,” Hermione agreed with a small smile. “Well, and Seamus; I’m pretty sure he just likes to make things explode, though, since he can do it with charms too and not just potions.”

Severus gained an odd look on his face, which the group keyed into immediately. “What is it?” George asked.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Snape started slowly. “It’s no one’s fault… but Gryffindor House has… changed somewhat since the Third Task.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Hermione asked, tensing.

“You must understand, while those closest to you are aware you survived, even by pure luck, most of Hogwarts thinks that you died the night of the third task. It has had… an effect… on your house, particularly your Quidditch team. They do not talk much these days. I am rather relieved exams have concluded, as the quiet is rather unnerving.”

“I suppose… they lost the both of us in one day,” Hermione said quietly. “I doubt many of our friends would even know how to try to contact me in the muggle world.”

Harry’s expression fell, all signs of cheer dropping away. “I’m not even sure it’s safe to tell them otherwise. But they’ll be grieving…”

“Grief is something most adults struggle with. For children, it’s often even harder,” George sighed. “I honestly don’t know what, if anything, we can or should do about it.”

“As much as it pains me to watch it happen, I believe it may be best to simply let it run its course,” Snape suggested. “If everyone but those about to also vanish from view believes you are dead, the Dark Lord will as well. And that, at least, should remove one target from your backs.”

“I’ve been planning on going to Hogwarts on Monday,” Sirius suggested quietly, “to go collect Harry’s things. Maybe I should spend some time there… Even if it’s a lie, I can comfort them.”

“I’ll come as well,” Remus said.

After Snape left, they decided to watch a movie before dinner, which was bangers and mash with strawberries and cream for dessert. “Do we want to go somewhere this summer?” Jean asked the kids, to their shock.

“I guess we just assumed we’d be shut in for the summer,” Harry explained.

“There’s no reason we can’t travel. We should simply go a little further from home than normal. We could go to the Americas? Mrs. Townsend down the way went to Hawaii last summer and said it was very relaxing.”

“We could also go to South America,” George said. “There’s a multi-day hike in Peru to Machu Picchu, and there are cruises that tour the Galapagos.”

“Why does that sound familiar,” Harry said distantly.

“Charles Darwin developed the theory of evolution there,” Hermione said awed. “Oh Dad, _could we_?”

“There’s tons of culture on Hawaii to study,” Jean argued lightly. “You can snorkle and scuba dive, surf, and swim with dolphins and seals. And the rather unique ecology of an environment still on an active volcano.”

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, awed. “I can’t decide. Harry, what do you want to do?”

Harry really wanted to tell Hermione that she obviously wanted to go to Peru, so they should go, but something stopped him. He was tired. He had been tired all year, but now he was just exhausted. He needed a break and all the hiking and exploring didn’t sound like a vacation at all. It sounded fun, just not that moment.

“Hawaii sounds nice, then,” Hermione said before Harry could manage to answer. Harry blinked, then smiled slowly. Hermione returned it. “As much as we love learning new things, I think we could use a real break. Just have fun and relax.” Hermione could read Harry as well as he could read her, and even though he hadn’t said anything… she just knew what he wanted.

“That sounds like a good idea to me, too,” George agreed. “Sirius? Remus? Did you want to come as well?”

Sirius nodded, but Remus hesitated for a long moment. “Only if we can plan around the full moon,” he finally said. “Though if we think we shouldn’t leave the other kids alone at the Manor, I can stay with them instead.” Despite being part of the family for a few years, Remus still felt uncomfortable when they spent money on him for extravagant or luxury items. A vacation to Hawaii definitely fell into that category.

“We can ask Minerva and Snape to look in on the kids while we’re gone,” Sirius brushed that concern aside. “And the Potter house elves will take care of them, make sure everyone stays safe and healthy. It’s not like we’re leaving a bunch of teenagers completely alone.”

“You should come, Uncle Moony,” Hermione said when Remus still hesitated. “We should all have a chance to relax and have fun. Before…” She trailed off, not wanting to admit verbally that war was looming on the horizon.

“Of course I’ll come, Kitten,” Moony relented finally.

“Is Voldemort…” Harry started quietly. “Has he attacked anyone?”

“No,” Sirius reassured him. “It looks like he’s laying low for now. He wants to see what Fudge does.”

“Which right now looks like it might include questioning Cedric’s… sanity,” George revealed carefully.

“What?” Harry exclaimed, stiffening. “How can they… _why_ would they do that?”

“They’re saying rogue Death Eaters killed you and wiped Cedric’s memory,” George continued. “They’re saying Cedric’s statements are trauma-induced.”

Remus passed Harry the paper. His eyes widened as he read the headline. “It’s typical of the Daily Prophet to try and put the best foot forward. Anything that threatens the status quo gets squashed.”

The next week passed slowly. Harry and Hermione both had nightmares, and the adults in the house did their best to help the teenagers. Otherwise they planned for a week in Hawaii and prepped for the Manor to have guests.

Harry had been quiet during the day. Hermione had pestered him a bit at first, but the adults got her to back off. “I think he just needs some space,” Sirius said once while Harry was in the back garden with George. “I’m sure seeing James wasn’t easy.”

Professor Snape, Sirius, and Remus were busy arranging everything so that early on Saturday morning, the Granger family, Sirius, and Remus flooed to the Manor. The house elves had prepared a large breakfast in anticipation of their arrival.

* * *

The school term was over. Finals were complete, and the visiting students were leaving in the evening. The next morning, the Hogwarts students would be boarding the Express for their trip home.

Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred and George sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch, watching as the maze from the third task was disassembled and the creatures caught to be returned to wherever they came from. The five friends had stuck close together since Harry’s disappearance; despite knowing that Harry had survived, Katie and the twins were still quite worried about what might have happened. It wasn’t hard to be solemn and ‘grieving’ in public, especially for Katie, as she fretted about Harry.

“Has anyone heard from Hermione?” Angelina asked in a soft voice.

“She hasn’t answered any of our owls,” George answered; it was the truth, at least. Hermione had only been in contact via the AA coins. She didn’t trust owl post to be as secure as their coins were.

“The Grangers must feel awful,” Alicia murmured. “They saved Harry from one bad situation, only to lose him in another.”

“Do you think we’ll hear from Hermione over the summer?” Katie asked, her voice low. She’d hurt her throat, screaming and crying when word of Harry’s death came, so she spoke little and only very carefully until it got better. She hadn’t reported it to Madam Pomfrey; she didn’t want the magical instant fix.

“I think so,” Fred offered. “Hermione will need her friends as much as her family, going forward. I’m sure she’ll be in touch when she’s feeling up to it.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Angelina said suddenly.

Katie made a choking sound and Alicia comforted her as best she could, whispering quietly to her. The night of the Third Task had been the worst night of Katie’s life; it had taken three professors to get her out of the maze and to the medical tent where she’d been given a calming potion. There was no magic, however, no potion or spell that could have reduced her grief. Even though she knew the truth now, that Harry was alive, she still felt the oppressive hole within herself that had come with the announcement from Cedric that Harry was dead. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fill it until she saw Harry for herself.

The group lapsed into silence again. Katie and the twins were trying hard to avoid outright lying to their closest friends. Angelina and Alicia mourned for Harry in their own ways, and didn’t want to push the others into talking if they weren’t feeling ready for it. Gryffindor Tower had been unusually quiet for days, and the general atmosphere of the school was greatly subdued. Hufflepuff was nearly as quiet, respecting Cedric’s grief and mourning Harry at the same time.

A short while later, Viktor climbed up the stands to approach. “May I join?” he asked diffidently.

“Of course,” Angelina replied. “You must be worried about Hermione, too. Might as well all worry together.”

Viktor huffed a small chuckle and sat on the bench with the rest of the group. “Hermione,” he pronounced her name carefully, but it was beginning to come more naturally to him, “is as vell as can be expected.” He offered the news to the group carefully. “Says her parents plan a trip for them over summer. Grieve too long is not good; they vant to remember happier times, maybe make her smile again.”

“That seems odd, but at the same time… it kind of makes sense,” Alicia commented. “A distraction would probably be good for Hermione, at least. Keep her from blaming herself.”

The others nodded agreement.

“How are you doing, Viktor?” George asked. “No lingering effects of the Imperius? Did they catch whomever did it?”

“Da,” Viktor agreed. “Vas Headmaster Karkaroff; he is… former follower of dark lord. Has… Dark Mark, they called it?”

“He was a _death eater_?” Angelina’s voice rose. “And they let him run a school?”

Viktor shrugged. “Karkaroff is master of dark arts. Terrible man, but not a bad teacher. He has been taken avay now.”

“Will you be able to get home okay?” Fred asked. “I mean, you don’t need him for the ship to work?”

“Headmaster spent voyage in his cabin,” Viktor responded with a smirk. “Ve steer ship. Vill vork vithout him.”

Silence grew again, but it was a comfortable one. Friends staying close after terrible events. They sat together for a while, each in their own way drawing strength from knowing they were not alone with their troubles.

“Fred,” Viktor eventually spoke up again. “Vould like to speak vith you. Privately, if possible.”

Fred looked over at Viktor, then glanced at his twin before nodding. “Sure. I know a quiet place that should work.”

The two young men made their way down from the stands, then Fred led the way back towards the school - but not to the entry. Instead, they followed the outer wall of the castle until coming to a small alcove where the rounded wall of a tower didn’t quite meet the wall that protruded outward. A couple of log sections provided seating; Fred didn’t mention that this was one of the places he and George would slip away to when they wanted privacy to plan a prank.

“So, what’s on your mind, Viktor?” Fred asked as they made themselves comfortable.

“Hermione,” Viktor said calmly.

Fred sighed, wondering if he was about to get the ‘stay away from my girlfriend’ warning. Through the past few days of concern for Hermione and how she’d handle Harry’s death - or not-death, as it turned out, but the associated issues - there were definitely moments when Fred wished he’d said something to Hermione sooner. He wanted to be the one Hermione willingly stayed in contact with, even when she didn’t want to talk to anyone else. He wanted to be a person she could turn to when she needed support.

Rather than give voice to his thoughts, he simply asked, “What about Hermione?”

“You care for her,” Viktor stated; it wasn’t a question. He recognized the look on the younger man’s face when he thought no one saw.

Fred bristled. “So what if I do? You got to her first, is that it?”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “No. Vas thinking… Love is not easy to find. Voman like Hermione is even less easy. Told her once, I am not a selfish man. Vould share if she vants. But… I think she does not understand. She likely does not know several vizarding cultures accept relationships can be more than one man, one voman.”

Wide-eyed, Fred listened to Viktor’s careful words. It honestly hadn’t occurred to him, either. “So you’re suggesting… she could see us both?”

“Is one option.” Viktor shrugged. “Also possible it could start that vay, but perhaps grow into something more. If everyone is… open-minded, I think is the term?”

“Sounds right,” Fred answered absently, his mind whirling. “So you think you and her and I could maybe… grow into something more?”

“Is possible. You have confidence and humor that are vorthy of admiration. But I vould understand if you are not interested in more than her.”

“You do know you’re one of the most sought-after men in Wizarding Europe, right?” Fred asked skeptically.

“People see vhat they vant to see,” Viktor replied in a wry tone. “They vant the Qvidditch star, not the person.”

“Mmm. I’m familiar; Harry gets a lot of that, too, and he’s only fourteen.” Fred fell quiet, thinking.

Viktor stayed put and waited patiently in the silence. There was a lot to consider, he knew, and he was willing to wait for the younger man to put his thoughts together. It was a suggestion that should be carefully considered. Not everyone was made in a way that allowed them to consider romantic attachments with more than one person.

“My brother Charlie’s asexual,” Fred suddenly announced. Viktor shifted, but waited for Fred to continue. “Only George, our older brother Bill, and I know. We’ve been hiding it from our parents since we were kids.”

“You vorry of the reaction?” Viktor asked quietly.

Fred nodded. “My mum… you met her. She’s a bit overbearing and she assumes things and… she wants everyone to get married and have kids. She seems to think it’s the only way you could ever be happy.”

“Do you think so?” Viktor asked.

Fred sighed. “My family…” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “They’re a bit backwards. I know in Wizarding Britain being attracted to blokes is perfectly acceptable, but my parents always treated it like it wasn’t. It wasn’t ever directly talked about, but the way my parents talked about wizards or witches who were... “

Viktor reached out and ran a hand through Fred’s hair. “May I?” he asked thickly. Fred whimpered and nodded vigorously. Given permission, Viktor planted a deep and searing kiss on Fred. Fred trembled for a moment, then returned the kiss with equal fervor. One thing Fred was certain of - Viktor knew how to kiss. His gut curled with arousal as Viktor licked inside Fred’s mouth while simultaneously threading a hand through Fred’s hair.

Breaking off the kiss to catch his breath, Fred rested his forehead against Viktor’s, panting. “I have to confess I’ve wanted to do that since you got here,” Fred admitted, then started laughing.

Viktor grinned, sharing Fred’s amusement. “I vould say I started to consider it vhen I saw you dance vith her at the Yule Ball.”

“You’ve been considering this as an option for that long?” Fred was surprised.

“Off and on, yes. Helped vhen you started to study vith us, spend time in the library together.”

“So we need to talk to Hermione,” Fred mused.

“Is unlikely I vill see her again before Qvidditch practice starts for the summer,” Viktor replied quietly. “But if you have the chance, I vould not object.”

Fred nodded decisively. “I’ll see what I can do over the summer. But you have to promise to write me, too.”

“I svear I vill, Fred.” Viktor smiled.

* * *

Escaping took a fair bit of planning and coordination over the last week of the term, via the coins. In the end, it was all about timing. Draco, Blaise, and Theo made sure to draw as much attention as possible getting on the train home from Hogwarts. They closed the curtains for privacy and applied a fancy locking charm to the door such that no one but them would be able to open it until the train reached London. After an hour exactly, they went visiting to the end of the train where most of the Slytherins were, then begged off after a while to go find the snack cart. Instead of returning to their cabin, the three boys slipped in to the cabin next to theirs, where the curtains were also shut. A mistake anyone could make, really.

“You ready?” Cedric said, getting up as the boys came in. Neville and Luna stood up as well. Malcom, Orla and Nigel had declined going for now, though they knew there was a way out if they needed it. They had coins of their own, now, so they wouldn’t be cut off from help. “You’ve got everything you want?”

“We sent our real trunks ahead with Professor Snape,” Draco explained. “Everything on the train is unneeded.”

“Alright,” Cedric said, holding out the beaker Snape had provided. “Everyone grab on.” Everyone got at least a finger on it. “Sanctuary.”

The group felt as if they were yanked away, then slammed to the ground, though they all managed not to fall down. Not even Neville. Cedric was the first to process who was in front of them. “Harry!” he cried.

“Hey Cedric,” Harry said quietly. The two shared a look. Draco knew from multiple meetings in the AA room that Cedric and Harry were now bound into a brotherhood of sharing such a life-altering experience. The-Boy-Who-Lived now seemed so much older than his soon-to-be fifteen years.

Luna, ignoring propriety and everything else, practically flew to Harry’s side and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

Harry returned the hug, though a bit more hesitantly than usual. When Luna released him, he stepped back and tried to put on a smile. “Welcome to Potter Manor,” he said to everyone, his tone a little formal. “I know it’s not quite home, for any of you, but I hope you’ll like it here anyway. It’s safe, at least.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Neville said. “Where’s Hermione?”

“Inside. But she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“You… how are you alive?” Cedric asked, going slightly pale. “I _saw_ that curse hit. I saw the look on your face…”

“Everything will be explained inside,” Harry pressed. “What happened is… well…. It explains a lot, but it’s also not a conversation I want to have outside. Besides, the house elves have prepared lunch for everyone. I’d hate their efforts to go to waste with us just hanging out here discussing it.”

“Sounds good,” Blaise said. “I’m starving.”

Hermione was inside waiting, and Luna dashed over to hug her immediately. “Hermione!”

“Hi Luna,” Hermione said quietly, hugging tightly. “Hi everyone. Welcome to our new home.”

After a round of hugs, which only surprised Hermione when Theo gave her a careful hug for the first time ever, the teens trooped inside and down to the kitchen. The house elves served macaroni & cheese, with roasted tomato and mushroom, and tall glasses of milk. Everyone was noshing on seconds when Cedric again brought up the topic. “What really happened that night?” he asked quietly.

Hermione, their parents, and their uncles froze. Hermione glanced at Harry, who sighed heavily. “What you saw was true. I was hit by a killing curse.”

Everyone paled. “Then, how did you survive?” Neville asked, frowning.

“I survived because Voldemort accidentally placed a horcrux in me the night he killed my parents,” Harry revealed.

Most of the group looked confused. Luna gasped and paled significantly and Draco looked like he was going to be sick, but the others were clearly clueless.

“What?” Theo asked, picking up on Luna’s and Draco’s reaction. “What’s a horcrux?”

Harry looked upset for a moment, then looked at Sirius. “I know you’re usually taught that magic is neither good nor evil - intent is what’s good or evil,” Sirius began quietly. “But a horcrux _is_ inherently evil. A horcrux is a piece of a person’s soul. To create one, you have to murder someone in cold blood to split your soul, and then stash the fragment in an object. It’s widely acknowledged that when you do this, you destroy yourself.”

“My father has a lot of books on the topic,” Draco ground out. “He had me write a paper on it during my tutoring days, before Hogwarts. It’s _disgusting_.”

“At least it saved my life,” Harry quipped dryly. “The curse destroyed the Horcrux, and not me.”

“Did he not know?” Theo asked, pale but still ever the scholar. “I would think if he knew you were a Horcrux, he wouldn’t necessarily want you dead.”

“We think it was probably an accident,” Remus explained with a pained expression. “That it happened in the chaos of rebounding spells, that night. Lily had… had just sacrificed herself for her son.”

“There would have been a lot of very powerful magic in the air,” Luna said solemnly. “It caused things no one intended.”

“It also explains why Voldemort couldn’t be killed,” Draco said. “With Harry still alive, a part of him was, so he couldn’t be killed. Now that the horcrux has been destroyed, he can be killed too.”

“Not exactly,” Sirius said slowly. “See, Voldemort was apparently a bit paranoid about someone killing him, so he created seven horcruxes.”

“Seven-” Draco’s eyes went wide and words failed him.

“A person missing that much of their soul would barely be human anymore,” Luna whispered, white as a sheet.

“Also probably more than a bit mad,” Sirius agreed.

“Which is one of the reasons why we brought you all here so soon,” Jean said directly. “None of you, children or barely adult, should have to cope with the whims of a madman.”

“For which we all thank you, Madam Granger,” Cedric replied, courtesy drilled into him to the point of being almost automatic.

“Call me Jean if you like,” Jean said casually.

“And I’m George,” George added. “We don’t stand on formality among family.”

The children, except for Harry and Hermione, all blinked at them in surprise. “Family?” Draco ventured tentatively.

“We’ve told you before, you’re our family,” Hermione reminded them all in a low voice. “Cousins, siblings, whatever. We’re family.”

“Which makes you family to us,” Jean continued, smiling fondly at the looks of shock. “Nieces and nephews, if you like; we’re not necessarily trying to replace your parents. Just to be here for you when you need us.”

Luna jumped out of her chair and all but flew to Jean’s side, throwing herself into the woman’s arms. She missed her mother so much, and never thought she’d find a new mother-figure to be a part of her life. She hid her tears against Jean’s shoulder, and Jean just held the girl gently.

Theo, Blaise, and Draco looked the way that Harry had felt the summer after first year. Harry remembered the feeling. Everything had been so uncertain for such a long time; to be offered something solid - unconditional love - was terrifying. “You can call them whatever you want,” Harry said. “I called them Jean and George for ages, even after they adopted me. Family isn’t about what you call each other, it’s about how you feel.”

Seeing the boys all looking uncomfortable, beneath their shock, George decided a distraction was in order. Everyone had finished eating, anyway. “Harry, Hermione, why don’t you show your friends their rooms. And also the library and study, where you’ll all have your lessons once they’re settled upon.”

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione said. She slid out of her chair readily, followed by the boys; Luna hung back, still in Jean’s arms, and Hermione gave the younger girl a smile to indicate that she could catch up when she was ready.

“This house has pretty much everything,” Harry said. “There’s even a Quidditch Pitch on the Grounds, and a pool downstairs…”

“Harry’s especially in love with the kitchen,” Hermione teased.

“Hermione couldn’t be removed from the library with a crowbar,” Harry teased back. Their banter brightened everyone’s spirits, including Harry’s.

“I’m out now, aren’t I?” Hermione sniffed, pretending offense they could all tell she didn’t mean. “Professor Snape has promised to help us equip a potions lab downstairs, separate from our study room. He doesn’t want accidents to happen with potions near other spellwork.”

“Dear Hermione,” Blaise said, laughing as he tucked her arm into his. “We just _finished_ school for the term. I think we’d all appreciate at least a bit of summer hols before you start hauling us back to the school room.”

Theo looked ready to object, but Draco and Neville were nodding vigorously in agreement with Blaise. Hermione just stuck her tongue out at all three of them. “Then I suppose the duelling room we found is also of no interest to you for the summer?” She pretended to pout a bit.

“Nope,” Harry said with a grin. “Summer is time for things that are fun. We’re still just kids, Mia.”

“I seem to recall someone who took to duelling lessons rather well,” Draco drawled, slanting a glance at Harry. “And even joined the club, despite its originator.”

Harry’s grin broadened. “I never said it wouldn’t be fun to get back to those lessons. But I, for one, plan to spend as much of our hols outside as possible. I want to fly and play games, not work. Even if it’s work as fun as duelling. I’m already going to be confined to the Manor for the most part. I don’t want to limit the rest of my summer any more than I have to. Besides, we have a whole library of books to read.”

The adults had decided that rather than setting their guests up in the Manor’s guest wing, they preferred to keep everyone together. So the third floor of the family wing had been designated the “dorm floor” as it were. Harry’s and Hermione’s chosen rooms were there anyway, at the end of the hall, and the adults were right below them, on the second floor. There was a large bathroom in the same hall, though Harry and Hermione each had their own. Not all the rooms did, however, so some of the group would have to share. Hermione promised to offer Luna access to her bathroom, quietly, in case sharing with the boys ever became a problem. There were several other bathrooms in the house, of course, just that the nearest one would be shared by necessity.

When they trooped back downstairs to the family room, Sirius had turned on the wireless. By mid-afternoon, breaking news cut in that several children from ‘prominent’ wizarding families had gone missing, including Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory. “Wonder if they realize I’m of-age and technically I’m not missing,” Cedric quipped. The report went on to say that many suspected it was the work of dark wizards, or even You-Know-Who himself!

“Just a couple muggles offering us Sanctuary,” Blaise interjected. “But, of course, no one’s going to think to look among muggles. Or that they’d be decent people. Or possibly that we’d rather be here than there.”

“We’re a mixed group,” Neville pointed out. “Some of us are from families one would expect to ally with the Dark, and others are not. It’s hard to find a motive for one person or group to make us all disappear.”

“You’re all purebloods,” Harry reminded them. “Perhaps the ‘kidnapper’ is after ransom money and not affiliated with one side or another.” He grinned.

“The writers at the Prophet aren’t smart enough to come up with that,” Hermione scoffed, amused.

“Speaking of being smart enough,” Cedric spoke up, changing the subject. “Did you two miss your exams?” He looked from Harry to Hermione.

“Technically, yes,” Hermione replied with a sigh. “In actuality, no. Harry was excused from them anyway, and Professor McGonagall administered all of mine for me at home. She’ll submit my grades for the year when it’s safe to do so.”

“At some point next year, we’ll have to take our OWLs,” Harry added with a shrug. “Those are the tests that really count, anyway. Those and NEWTs.”

“I think Mum wants us to take our A-Levels as well, when we’re old enough,” Hermione mused. “Those can also be taken independently, from what I understand.”

“What are A-Levels?” Theo asked, beating the others to it.

“The closest equivalent is NEWTs, for Muggle school subjects,” Harry explained. “You need at least three to qualify for most Universities.”

Harry looked around at his family as they listened to the news breaking, and then for the occasional updates - not that there was much, other than that witnesses definitely saw the missing students get onto the Express, so Hogwarts was generally not under suspicion. That was good; they hadn’t wanted the teachers blamed. For certain, he knew, this summer was going to be very different than he had gotten used to. He was happy, though. They were all together. They were safe. And that was all Harry could really ask for.

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the final chapter for Kinship and Peril, folks. Thank you so much for your reviews and feedback and kudos. To our American fans, we hope you have a very happy Thanksgiving.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will post Mon/Thurs, as per our typical posting schedule. :)
> 
> And as always, we would love to hear from all our readers. We won't give spoilers in comments, but we love to discuss people's theories and ideas!


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